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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898606">Heart Like an Artichoke</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/belleweather/pseuds/belleweather'>belleweather</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Cottage-core, Food Porn, Gardening, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2010-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2010-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:26:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>47,874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27898606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/belleweather/pseuds/belleweather</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's career-making real estate deal to build the Dowling Towers condo complex has completely fallen apart, and in order to save it he needs to spend a week working in the Dowling Community Gardens to convince the community that he's taking their concerns seriously, even if he thinks they're full of crap. He's expecting to spend the week pulling weeds and arguing politics with aging hippies. Instead, he meets Jared, the Community Organizer in charge of the garden. Jared is young, built, brilliant and disagrees with Jensen about absolutely everything. He's also dead set on changing Jensen's mind about the condo project. Jared drags Jensen along with him, and in between arguing with one another, digging in the dirt and eating Jared's amazing cooking, they both start to see themselves in a new light. But when push comes to shove and the city council is about to vote on the future of both the Garden and the Condo project, Jensen and Jared both have to decide who they want to be and what they're willing to sacrifice in order to be together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Monday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally written for the 2010 Supernatural Big Bang -- it's taken me a shamefully long time to get this up here and off LJ. *sigh*</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jensen shifts uncomfortably in his desk chair. He's staring at a column of numbers in the excel spreadsheet in front of him that say, basically, the numeric equivalent of "you're totally screwed". The groundwater report for the site of the future Oaks at Windsor Park Condo Project has come back from the surveyor, and repeatedly closing his eyes and then opening them again is not changing the numbers in it. With these numbers, CW Developing isn't going to be able to build the two levels of underground residential parking that they've currently designed into the project and are counting on. Without the underground parking ramp they won't be able to meet the city's asinine parking requirements for newly built multi-use buildings without convincing the city council to demolish another three houses. He's pretty sure that request would to go over like a lead balloon with the suburban planning board - his contacts are already getting testy with him. The third round of anti-development protestors trying to block the construction had shown up earlier in the week with stink bombs in hand and the results hadn't been pretty. Or fragrant.</p>
<p>Thank god that he's already put the first planning stage of the Dowling Towers project to bed last week or he'd be back to gulping Maalox from sheer and unremitting stress, Jensen thinks as he pages back again through the environmental impact study. There has to be something in here - some minuscule detail that he could latch on to, some variable that the surveyors hadn't considered that he can use to insist on a new study. A study CW Development will, of course, generously agree to pay for and which in turn will assure that they can use a surveying company that they can trust to come to a more...correct conclusion.</p>
<p>Jensen smiles as he flips the page back - it looks like the original surveyors used a very slightly non-standard way of measuring the gallons per minute that were coming out of the underground water system, which might be enough to request another survey - when he hears a knock at his office door. It opens a moment later to reveal Danneel Harris, the other Junior Partner at CW Development, leaning against the door frame with a stormy look on her face.</p>
<p>"What?" Jensen says, staring up at her from the mess of papers across his desk. She looks stoic and disgruntled but doesn't say anything, which is either a very good or a very bad sign. He sets the papers down. "Please tell me that you've got good news for me. I don't think I can handle anything but good news right now."</p>
<p>Her eyebrows rise and she frowns at him, stepping into his office and closing the door behind her. "Well, get out the Maalox then, Jen. Because this? Is really, really going to ruin your day."</p>
<p>Fuck. What now? He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst. "Okay, lay it on me."</p>
<p>"We lost the permit for Dowling Towers."</p>
<p>"The FUCK?" Jensen half yells, half growls, coming up out of his desk chair. "What the hell went wrong, Dani? I hand walked the goddamn permit application over. We went over every study with a fine toothed comb. The application was letter fucking perfect. The permit was basically a formality. How in the name of God could we have not gotten it approved?"</p>
<p>Danneel has her hands out in front of her. "Hey, calm down. It wasn't anything you did. This totally isn't your fault, and Eric knows that."</p>
<p>The Senior Partner at CW Development, Eric Kripke, is known throughout the industry as a hard-assed perfectionist - Jensen calls him "The Mad Dwarf" in private, which is one of the nicer nicknames he's heard people use for the man. But Jensen's Annual performance review has been looming, marked in red on his calendar for the last five weeks and he's planning on asking - on top of his usual well-deserved and handsome raise - for a promotion. Danneel knows as well as Jensen does that with Eric one screw up - major or minor - would completely kill his chances of making anything more than Junior Partner.</p>
<p>"Okay," he says once he's slightly calmer, "if it wasn't a problem with the application, then what the hell actually happened?"</p>
<p>Danneel sighs. "There was an easement on the legal title to the property."</p>
<p>"An easement?" He's completely flabbergasted. "How the hell did we not already know about something like that? I'm pretty sure that we pay an enormous pile of money to our title lawyers so that they can work their lawyerly magic and make sure that nothing like this ever happens."</p>
<p>"I know." Danneel says, tumbling into the chair opposite Jensen's desk. "I don't know how they missed it either - I guess it was an old easement, and it's not the standard kind you'd expect to see - like the easements to let someone cross your property or whatever. I don't think they realized what it was."</p>
<p>"Okay. What is it?"</p>
<p>"It's a garden."</p>
<p>"Come again?" Jensen says, reasonably sure that he hadn't heard her correctly.</p>
<p>"A garden. It's been there since the 1960's and somewhere along the way they were granted a formal easement by the city to use the land for community gardening."</p>
<p>"Which means they're legally entitled to use it unless they agree to release the easement?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, that's about it," Danneel says. "And it's going to be pretty hard for them to garden there once we've built 7 stories of development on top of it."</p>
<p>"Well, fuck." Jensen says, standing up to pace. There has to be some way to work around this. It's his personal reputation on the line, not to mention CW's reputation. They've worked hard to be known in the industry as the company who can push just about anything through, and get their projects build on time and on budget by means fair or foul. And Jensen's not-inconsiderable skills as their resident fixer are a big part of that. He's always been the guy who goes out and greases the skids, shaking hands and charming little old ladies and convincing people to bed the rules for him, just this once. He's so good at it that he doesn't remember the last time that they lost a build. And this project is not about to mar his perfect record.</p>
<p>"Okay," Jensen says, pushing up his sleeves. "Who is the easement granted to?"</p>
<p>"There's a community gardening board. They hold the easement and they'd have to vote unanimously to relinquish it," She says.</p>
<p>"And I bet it's full of old people and ex-hippies who couldn't agree on the color of the sky without going through proper emotional process and consensus building," Jensen says, more to himself than to Danneel. "Okay. It's Probably not worth it to try to work with them to get them to release the easement voluntarily. Next option - who is on the county board? We're already working with them to buy the community center, so they know us. And they've got the government's power to take private property under immanent domain to override the easement."</p>
<p>Danneel thinks for a moment and then breaks out into a smile, slow and wide. "It'd be the Davis County board. So I'm pretty sure you can figure something out."</p>
<p>Jensen is already waiving Danneel toward the door and picking up the phone on his desk. "Mike? Put me through to Jeff Morgan at his office, as soon as possible," he says the moment his assistant picks up the line. He twitches his fingers as the phone kicks over into hold music, trying not to fidget too much until Jeff's gruff voice comes over the line.</p>
<p>"This is Jeff."</p>
<p>"Hey, Jeff. It's Jensen. How's things?"</p>
<p>"Good, good. You're not calling to cancel on me for the game this weekend, right?"</p>
<p>"Hell no." Jensen says, smiling. "Got the tickets sorted, and the time off. You're in for it, you know the Redskins are going to kick the Cowboys' ass."</p>
<p>"Yeah, Looking forward to it." Jeff says, his voice relaxed and easy. This is exactly the mood Jensen was hoping to catch him in - Jeff is mercurial, and he very much needs right now to be talking to the relaxed, open, anything-for-my-Godson Jeff Morgan, and not the hard-assed ex-Cop Jeffrey who kicks asses and wins elections.</p>
<p>"Listen, this isn't entirely a social call. I've got a problem that I hope you can help me sort out." Jensen explains the easement issue, trying not to let stress come through in his voice. "The development is great for the neighborhood - retail on the ground level, offices above, and then condos. Real high-density urban living stuff. We're trying to help turn the neighborhood around."</p>
<p>"And make a pretty penny doing it," Jeff comments, but his voice is amused and not critical so Jensen lets it go. He's not in the social welfare business and there is nothing wrong with working hard and getting paid appropriately. He's going to make a lot of damn money on this deal, if they can get this garden thing sorted out.</p>
<p>"There's nothing wrong with that," Jensen points out, smiling.</p>
<p>"No, there isn't. But the garden you're talking about isn't just some pile of dirt. It's the Dowling Community Garden, which was one of the first urban community gardens on the east coast and a big deal for the sort of people who are into that kind of thing. We've had a lot of press up here looking into that project; it's been a big boon for the community. I can't just let you pave it over without some political cover."</p>
<p>"Shit, Jeff. I really need you to be able to do me a favor on this…" Jensen says.</p>
<p>Jeff is quiet for a moment, evidently thinking. Jensen can hear the rasp of his fingers rubbing against his close-cut beard, and tries not to fidget.</p>
<p>"Here's what we're going to do. I'll talk to the county board, and let them know that the easement is an issue. But I need to be able to make it look to them like we're really taking this seriously and considering the needs and feelings of the whole community and the gardeners, and we're going to need to look really diligent about it."</p>
<p>"Right, I'll send Mike down to spend some time in the garden, talking to people and…"</p>
<p>"Good idea, kiddo. But I don't think it can be Mike this time. I think for the optics on this to work correctly, we're going to need someone a little higher up at CW Development involved."</p>
<p>"A little high - you don't mean me, do you?"</p>
<p>"Got it in one," Jeff says. "Spend the week down there. Press the flesh, meet people, see what they're about. It'll give me the political cover with the board I need to nuke the easement and get your permit."</p>
<p>"You can't be serious."</p>
<p>"I'm completely serious."</p>
<p>"I have a black thumb," Jensen sputters. "I don't know a damn thing about plants. Jeff, I hate shit like this and you know it. You can't really need me to do this."</p>
<p>"I can and I do...or do you not want the building to go up?" Jensen swallows hard. No building, no promotion. He can't let this deal fall apart over something so stupid and trivial. Jeff takes his silence for the acquiescence that it is. "Just go down there starting Monday morning and act really diligent and interested. I'll have someone call over and set it up with the coordinator. You'll get your permit."</p>
<p>"Thanks, Jeff," Jensen says, and it's heartfelt.</p>
<p>"You're welcome kid. Hey, I talked to your dad the other day. Told him you were well. Sure would make his year if you'd give him a call."</p>
<p>"I know, Jeff."</p>
<p>"I know you do. See you on Saturday."</p>
<p>Jensen cradles the receiver, swears fervently and starts to clear his calendar.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jeff's secretary calls him back an hour later with details. He's supposed to drive over to Dowling sometime in the early afternoon and look for a guy named Jared who apparently works as the Community Gardening Coordinator. He briefly wonders what kind of person signs up for a job like that, and what exactly a community gardening coordinator does, before throwing himself back into the impact study, staring at the piles of work on his desk that there is no way to complete before he has to spend a whole week doing Jeff's dirty public relations work.</p>
<p>The drive to the garden from CW's headquarters seems to go on forever, even if Jensen does stop for Dunkin' Donuts on the way. He pulls off the interstate and crawls through busy traffic on surface streets that are so potholed and torn up that they might represent the first time since he bought the Land Rover that he actually needs the four wheel drive. He manages to hit just about every stop light along the length of the avenue, and so gets to watch in perfect detail as the stores slowly change from middle-class chains by the interstate to smaller, dingier places with bars on the windows and signs in multiple languages proclaiming their goods, or that they have "Envios Dinero a Mexico!" and that they accept WIC and EBT transactions.</p>
<p>He feels a familiar rush of excitement when he sees the community center and the garden come into view as he navigates the last couple of turns. The site of the future Dowling Towers really is a beautiful piece of property. It's situated on the edge of a long, low hill that he'd been driving up ever since he'd turned off the main avenue. The road winds in a gentle baroque curve around the garden property. He feels a tightening in his belly and almost closes his eyes, the vision of the towers rising in his mind - how the portico would arch out to where the streets meet, the way the hand-picked stone sign on the corner would look, and the amazing views over the neighborhood and out into downtown that the condos along the back will have from their floor-to-ceiling windows. It's the perfect site - it's going to be so beautiful when it's finished that it's going to put The Oaks at Windsor Creek to shame and in that moment he can't wait to watch the building rise out of the dirt and shine in the sun.</p>
<p>Currently the property is taken up by a distinctly unromantic squat cinder-block community center and its equally unremarkable parking lot curving around in front. On the edge of the parking lot sits an enormous Maple tree that Chad, Jensen's assistant and all around CW dogsbody, has been sent over to photograph in various lights and seasons. It's been sent to the graphic designers as a mock up for the logo for Dowling Towers because privately Jensen considers it to be just about the platonic ideal of a perfect tree. It's a pity they weren't able to preserve it in the final project design, but he ended up feeling foolish fighting for the tree when the whole building was at stake. And at least this way he can give the tree some kind of immortality, on the front of every brochure and sign in the project.</p>
<p>Jensen pulls into one of the parking spaces and kills the Land Rover's engine. He looks out the car windows but no one who even comes close to meeting his mental description of a Community Gardening Coordinator immediately presents himself. There is, however, a man sitting on the picnic table underneath the tree, eating an apple and staring down the hill and into the garden. And the man? Is gorgeous. Jensen can't see him perfectly through the windshield of the car since he's staring into the shade of the tree's boughs but what he can see nearly makes his breath catch in his throat. Broad shoulders, strong hands cupping the apple, a craggy profile with an adorable upturned nose and shaggy hair that hangs into eyes that he imagines must be the color of the rapidly turning leaves above - brown and green and gold.</p>
<p>This is Jared, the long-haired pot-smoking hippie gardener he's supposed to spend the week with? This guy? Jensen isn't sure whether he's hit the jackpot or just sold his soul to the devil. It takes several deep breaths before he can get out of the car and he narrowly resists the urge to check his hair in the rearview - bad idea, considering that he's parked right in front of the guy.</p>
<p>He walks over to the man and extends his hand. "Hi, I'm Jensen Ackles. You must be Jared, right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, man. Good to meet you." Jared is perched next to a cardboard box that bears a sign in strong black marker handwriting that says "NO ZUCCHINI BIGGER THAN A BABIES ARM, I MEAN IT!"</p>
<p>"Do you mean it?" Jensen asks, pointing to the sign.</p>
<p>"Oh hell yes, I do." Jared says, standing up and brushing non-existent crumbs off strong, denim-covered thighs. "If I didn't put my foot down I'd get forty zucchinis the size of baseball bats in there every damn week. They're not good for anything when they're that big - you can't eat them, the food bank won't take them, and if I try to compost them we'll just have a compost heap full of zucchini plants next year. They're a fucking menace." He smiles. "So, you're the soulless real estate developer who is going to be hanging out with me this week. I suppose you want me to give you the grand tour?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, um. I guess that would be good."</p>
<p>Jared hops down off the picnic table. "Right this way, then." He gestures to a sandy path that looks mostly like an eroded gully, but where railroad ties have been dug in to form steep and muddy steps. Standing on the edge of the steps he can see the garden stretching out below him like a shallow bowl, an oval of dirt about the size of a standard football field, divided into individual rectangular plots, each one demarcated by wire fencing and containing rows and patches of flourishing plants - or in some cases, flourishing weeds. There's a center aisle and a path around the edge, and several large tanks and spigots of water placed at intervals throughout the space, with trees heavy with fruit lining the edges of the garden. Everything is somehow both silent and buzzing with activity, overflowing with bounty. Even to him - city boy, developer, with no more desire to go back to the dirt than your average fish - he has to admit that there's still something about the place that grabs your attention. There's something about it that feels elemental, real and visceral.</p>
<p>Jensen gently negotiates the stairs, careful of his leather loafers in the dirt. Jared notices and smirks. "Great footwear choice." He teases. "Generally, we don't see too much Gucci down here. I'd suggest tennis shoes in the future." Jensen shoots him a dirty look.</p>
<p>"Okay, so this is the Dowling Community Gardens." Jared gestures wide as they come to the bottom of the stairs. "You can pretty much see how we've divided the land up into individual plots. We've got 68 spaces in total, not counting mine. Each one is given to a different gardener - the gardeners pay a fee on a sliding scale; those with less income pay less, those who can afford it pay more, but it's pretty reasonable...about $50 or so if you're paying full freight. Everyone is responsible for their own plots, and they get to keep whatever they grow. I mean, other than whatever they donate in the donations box; that goes to the food bank, along with anything we pull out of any abandoned plots."</p>
<p>"As long as it's not bigger than a baby's arm," Jensen says cheekily.</p>
<p>"Exactly." Jared smiles. They walk along the path a bit, with Jared pointing out specific plots and telling him about who gardens there and what they grow. "...That's one thing that's really important about the garden," he says, dragging Jensen's attention away from staring at the broad backs of his hands, with their long and clever fingers. "People can grow whatever they want and they can grow stuff that is really hard to find in the stores in this area, which are pretty pathetic. We've got a couple of Mexican families who grow a lot of pumpkins and tomatillos and special peppers from seeds that they had someone send from the old country because they can't get them here. There was a middle eastern couple last year who planted their entire plot over in fava beans because they wanted to make Fouhl just like they'd had at home in Syria and the canned beans weren't cutting it for them, and a girl from South Georgia whose got some of the nicest damn okra I've ever seen."</p>
<p>"Nice okra, huh?" Jensen says with a mock leer.</p>
<p>Jared freezes for a moment and then his face lights up with laughter. "Oh man, no. I totally didn't mean it that way - I'm not really into girls. I'm just talking about her okra, I promise." There's a moment of uncomfortable silence as Jensen lets this revelation sink in, as he gets caught up in Jared's enormous smile and eyes that turn out to be every bit as pretty as he thought they might be when he was staring through the windshield of his car.</p>
<p>He is so very fucked.</p>
<p>Jensen pastes on a smile and laughs with Jared. The uncomfortable moment passes as if it had never happened in the first place as Jared goes on with his tour.</p>
<p>"…We're almost completely self-sustaining financially," he's saying when Jensen is able to pay attention again. "The plot rent pays for most of the actual fees for the water that we use and we've got grants and donations that cover spring and fall plowing and a couple of companies that donate seeds and plants for us to hand out to the gardeners if they can't afford their own."</p>
<p>"We keep basic tools in here, so people can pretty much come as they are," Jared says. They're standing in front of a large, squat tool shed which someone appears to have helpfully painted blue and written the words "Police Box" in white paint over the doorway. Jensen is afraid that he doesn't get the joke. Jared opens the door and Jensen peeks his head in, seeing a miscellany of various implements of destruction including a couple of wheelbarrows, shovels and rakes.</p>
<p>"Impressive," he says, not really meaning it.</p>
<p>"Thanks," Jared replies, smiling as if he didn't notice Jensen's insincerity. They detour around the shed, and walk along the outer edge of the garden. Sets of trees stand neatly two by two by two along the property line where it abuts the parking lots for the various manufacturers whose buildings and factories take up the other half of the block. "These are fruit trees, here," Jared says, pointing. "We've got plums and pears here, and these guys are apples." He points at the half-dozen pairs of trees between them and the end of the garden. "Want one?"</p>
<p>"No, thanks. I'm fine."</p>
<p>Jared reaches up, tangling his fingers into the foliage of one of the trees. "You sure? They're damn good apples." Jensen is too distracted by the way that Jared's shirt rides up just the smallest bit over the curve of his hip, displaying a tantalizing stripe of tanned golden skin across his back as he reaches up into the tree, to really answer. Jared takes his silence as assent and reaches up and grabs an apple. The branches shake as he pulls his hand free, and he's offering Jensen an almost perfect looking red-dappled apple. Jensen takes it from his hand, not sure what else to do. He bites in, almost drawing back as the juice and sweetness explodes across his tongue. Jensen can't remember the last time he ate an apple but he's sure it didn't taste like this. He remembers apples being red and hard and sort of sour and dry when he'd gotten them in school…</p>
<p>Jared is nattering on. "Anyone is pretty much free to take the fruit from the trees and we harvest what is left toward the end of the season. It's one of the things we'll probably have to do this week so I hope you were a tree-climber as a kid." Jared smiles, but goes on before Jensen really has time to answer. "We started with the trees because they're such an easy, low-effort way to increase food security and add value to our gardening program. We also do classes on making cider and apple sauce and canning and preserving so that people can eat good food all year round."</p>
<p>"Nice," Jensen says, not really paying attention as he demolishes his apple.</p>
<p>"I thought so." Jared leads them out into the center of the garden again. "One of the guys from the neighborhood, Clive, got really into beekeeping a few years ago. We let him host a couple of beehives - over there, in those big white boxes - and it's sort of turned into this big thing. We'll be harvesting honey later this week, if the weather holds. We share it out between the gardeners and let other people buy in, which is another source of revenue for us. Anyway, you'll get to be there for that...it's usually a big community effort, lots of people come out to help." Jensen shudders at the sight of the hives and privately doubts their sanity - both theirs and Jared's - and starts thinking about exotic tropical diseases that he could fake so that he doesn't have to show up for sting-o-rama.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jared leads the absurdly pretty right wing tool around the garden, getting excited in spite of himself at the chance to show off all the projects that he's shepherded since he started his job as the coordinator. He loves to walk through the garden and see how everything develops over the course of the year, starting from the flat black earth he finds in the spring into what the garden is now - the plots and the trees heavy with harvestable food, and the bees busily buzzing in and out of full, heavy hives. Right now, though, he's having a hard time concentrating on the garden. It's taking too much of his effort to ignore the fact that the guy standing next to him looks like he just stepped out of an underwear ad in Gentlemen's Quarterly. Not that Jared is ordinarily attracted to the kind of guy who would be modeling in GQ - or at least, not that he'd admit it, despite what you might find hiding underneath his bed - but there is something about those enormous green eyes that seem to be making him really, really uncomfortable.</p>
<p>As they come out of the tall grass between the trees and back on to the path, Jared turns and sees Jensen bent over in the middle of the dirt, frowning and pulling at his trousers.</p>
<p>"What, did you rip something?" Jared says, walking over.</p>
<p>"No...I've got all these...things all over me," Jensen says, straightening up and gesturing to his legs.</p>
<p>Jared lets out a guffaw. "Damn, you're covered in Jesus weed!" he says, looking at the horde of small prickly seed pods currently clinging on to Jensen's obviously very expensive trousers.</p>
<p>"Jesus weed? Is that what they call these?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Jared snickers, "because when you find them on your pants, you end up asking yourself 'Jesus! How'd that get there?'"</p>
<p>"Very funny," Jensen says, in a tone that makes it abundantly clear that he doesn't find it funny at all.</p>
<p>For a moment, Jared feels kind of sorry for the guy, standing there in the dirt and looking so very uncomfortable and out of place. "Here," he says quietly, kneeling down. "Let me help you with that." He starts to gently remove the clinging pods, taking the fabric in his hand and gently plucking the spiny edges loose so as not to tear the threads. After a moment, he feels Jensen still and tense above him. He tilts his head up to meet green eyes that have gone dark and hungry and is suddenly very, very conscious of the silent and deserted and private garden all around them, and that he is on his knees with his face right at the level of Jensen's crotch and that he can see the outline of the other man's hardening cock marring the perfect fall of those grey trousers.</p>
<p>They look at one another for a long, long moment before Jared forces himself to pull his hands back, sit back on his haunches, and stand up. "Are you sure you don't want to borrow something else to wear? I'm sure I've got some jeans or something back at the house."</p>
<p>Jensen's eyes are still dark and cloudy but he shakes his head.</p>
<p>Jared checks his watch. "Okay, well, it's getting toward quittin' time anyway and I've got some paperwork that I was going to do before I go home today. Why don't I walk you up to your car, and we'll see you tomorrow morning? Bright and early - I'm usually here by eight." It's evident form the look on Jensen's face that this proclamation isn't earning him any points with his shadow.</p>
<p>As they're heading back to Jensen's car, nearly to the stairs, Jared stops him with a hand on his arm. "Look," he says, seeing the uncomfortable look on Jensen's face, "I know you're not exactly here because this is a place you want to be. I'm sure you're thinking that you've got a million better things to do than hang out here in the dirt with me for a week. And, I know I can't change your mind. But just…" Jared runs a hand through his hair. "Just try and keep an open mind about it, okay? This place can get to you, in a good way. And I'd really like you to see that."</p>
<p>The look on Jensen's face is a little flabbergasted and a lot uncomfortable. "I'm going to do my best to make this fun for you. There's beekeeping and apple picking and all sorts of stuff. Hell, there's going to be a harvest fair on Saturday, you'll have to come to that. We hold it in the garden and everyone brings something delicious to eat, some of the guys down the block play music, it's pretty awesome."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't miss it." Jensen says with what's obvious is faked enthusiasm. There is no getting through to some people, Jared thinks as they walk up to the steps. He escorts Jensen to his enormous fuel-sucking SUV and waves as he pulls away, trying not to think uncharitable thoughts as he turns to go inside the community center. There's a dark athletic storage closet that Jared has taken over as a summer office, using his personal laptop as a computer. He boots it up and opens up the garden's budget spreadsheet and the list of things to do before the harvest fair this weekend and tries to lose himself in numbers and organization and his work.</p>
<p>He manages, at least for a couple of hours. Once the accounts are balanced and the plans for next season made - regardless of the chances of having a next season - Jared shuts off the laptop. He's still twitchy, not at all sure why he's feeling so nervous and out of sorts and unable to face going home to an empty house. He scrolls through his cell phone, wondering who might be up for a quick post-work beer on a Monday.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Throw your damn darts, gigantor," Misha says, bringing over two more pint glasses of truly terrible beer. Jared swears that it's probably Pabst Blue Ribbon and has a sneaking suspicion that Misha orders it for them on purpose in an effort to be one with the proletariat. This despite the fact that he is in no way blue collar, since he teaches English literature at the local community college. Jared's reasonably sure that the bar does stock better beer than this pig swill, but no matter what he orders he always ends up drinking the same watery faux-IPA crap.</p>
<p>Jared throws his darts and while he doesn't do badly, he's not up to his usual dart playing glory and it is touch-and-go at this point as to whether Misha could conceivably win this round and end Jared's nine week undefeated dart-playing streak.</p>
<p>"So," he says by way of distraction, "I met the guy from CW Development that is supposed to be hanging out with me in the garden this week."</p>
<p>"What?" Misha turns to him without moving the dart from where he's holding it right by his ear. "Really? So what is it like to spend a day palling around with the forces of evil?"</p>
<p>Jared hides his head in his hands. "He's almost unbelievably pretty, Misha," he says, staring down at his shoes.</p>
<p>"Huh. I suppose that makes a certain amount of sense, in the Miltonian tradition and all…"</p>
<p>"Dude, seriously. I do not need a comparative literature lecture right now."</p>
<p>Misha throws his darts.</p>
<p>"Just...the guy is, like a corporate Republican tool. He's evil - CW is well-known for being the slimiest Development company in the city; they'll do anything up to and including selling souls and buying politicians in order to get one of their projects built. I shouldn't be surprised that he's a tool, but fuck. I did not expect the guy to be this hot."</p>
<p>"Yeah?"</p>
<p>"Yeah. He's like…surface of the sun hot. He's got these green eyes and these amazing full lips and a great smile and yeah. Republicans shouldn't be allowed to be this hot. It should violate a cosmic law or something."</p>
<p>"I really don't think the cosmos cares what side of the political spectrum someone is on, Jared," Misha says reprovingly.</p>
<p>"Says the communist. I suppose that you'd want beauty to be distributed to each according to their need, wouldn't you?"</p>
<p>"I'm not a communist," Misha proclaims, "I'm a socialist. Communists go to meetings."</p>
<p>"I thought that was drunks," Jared points out. "And alcoholics."</p>
<p>"Whatever. Anyway, remember what mama always said - Just say no to sex with pro-lifers."</p>
<p>Jared rolls his eyes. "First, my mama would never say that seeing as she's a church going Baptist. And secondly, even if she had...I'm gay. Pregnancy? Not something I have to worry about."</p>
<p>"Don't be too sure…" Misha says. "I've been reading about some odd side effects of the government's experiments with genetically modified organisms. There's a theory that they're adding BPA to plastics in baby bottles in order to render otherwise fertile male babies sterile as a cover up…"</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'll take that under advisement, Misha," Jared says, slipping into a stance and pulling his arm back to throw his darts. His first attempt goes wide, nearly missing the dart board completely and he curses under his breath. He swears that Misha only comes up with his whacked-out theories in order to distract Jared at whatever bar game they're currently playing. For someone who believes in the equal distribution of wealth, Misha is sneakily competitive at bar games.</p>
<p>Misha takes that moment to ask, "Speaking of long odds, what are you going to do if they end up building a condo tower in the middle of your garden?"</p>
<p>"Fucked if I know," Jared mutters, throwing his last dart.</p>
<p>"You could always join the working class," Misha suggests, shuffling off his bar stool to pull Jared's darts free from the board. "Get a real job."</p>
<p>"Doing what?" Jared says morosely.</p>
<p>"Well, you do have a couple of talents. And I don't really recommend stripping, so I suppose cooking immediately suggests itself."</p>
<p>Jared shrugs. Misha isn't wrong; it'd be the logical thing for him to do. He's done his time bussing dishes, and he's done his time on a restaurant line and doing kitchen, so with his resume it's not like he'd be starting on the bottom rung. He's bussed dishes and chopped onions for a couple of big names that would still open the odd door for him. The thing is, he's sick of it. Hard physical work, dick and fart jokes, coming home to some rat trap apartment and working hours that no living being should tolerate with no one waiting for him at the end of it and no payoff on the horizon is no way to live.</p>
<p>What he wants is to build something - something bigger than himself, something that is going to endure. If he can't do that, well...he's got hospitality experience, speaks decent English and holds a SCUBA dive master certification. He can work his way around the world for a good long time before he has to worry about starving to death. He's done as much of that sort of work as he has cooking over the past couple of winters, just lighting out with his backpack and whatever he's got in savings, letting the day take him wherever it would. He's bounced for a couple of big beach shows down in Mexico, taken people out to dive with the whale sharks in Manila and washed baby elephants in Thailand - anything job that was interesting and that would give him a couple of reasonable meals and a place to crash.</p>
<p>He can always do that again. Hell, he looks forward to it. There's a whole world out there and plenty of it to explore yet, no matter what the outcome of the vote. He just has to make it through this one week with his green-eyed stalker first.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Tuesday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Good morning!" Jared says cheerily, seeing Jensen step out of his enormous beast of a car. "You ready to work?" Jensen looks ready - instead of wearing the overpriced corporate casual he'd had on yesterday, Jensen appears to have dressed for comfort. He's wearing a beat up pair of jeans that sport lingering paint stains around the calves and a well-washed, well-loved looking dark blue tee-shirt. He's got a pair of aviator shades pushed up on top of his head and is wearing converse sneakers on his feet. He looks so delicious in casual clothes that Jared has to force his mind to keep from straying into thoughts about how good he might look out of them.</p>
<p>At this rate, it's shaping up to be a long day.</p>
<p>"Okay, first things first. Monday mornings we make a drop off at the Second Harvest food bank." Jared pulls a stack of empty cardboard boxes out from under the picnic table and shoves them at Jensen, who takes them into his arms, tucking the top of the tower under his chin to keep them from toppling over. "There's a box out to collect donations from the gardeners over the weekend but most of the food we donate comes from abandoned plots."</p>
<p>"Abandoned?" Jensen asks, peering over the tower of boxes as he tries to follow Jared down the hill into the garden.</p>
<p>"Yeah. Some people start gardening with us in the spring and then for whatever reason decide it isn't for them and never come back. We've got pretty good soil here so if they've already put their plants or their seeds in, the chances are that they'll still grow something. We sneak into their plots and pick whatever grows to donate it to the community food shelf instead of letting it rot on the vine."</p>
<p>"And people eat it?"</p>
<p>Jared stops in his tracks and looks at him like he's grown a second head. "Um, yeah. It's actually a pretty popular program - people who have to rely on food banks don't usually get a lot of fresh veggies in their diets since most food drives are for canned goods or shelf-stable stuff. Fresh fruit and vegetables are a pretty big deal, since most food shelves can't offer them." Jensen looks at him like he's talking about lepers and not hungry kids who happen to like carrots, but Jared lets it go. There's no point in fighting it, and he really should have expected that anyone who was sent over from CW Development would turn out to be an asshole who thinks he's allergic to poor people.</p>
<p>They walk along the dusty pathway. To either side, the plots are fenced around the edges with chicken wire to keep rabbits out, neatly weeded and mulched and almost overflowing with green. Jared can name every person who owns a plot here - he's known many of them for since he moved here, and looks forward to meeting new gardeners every year when the new season starts. The plot they've just passed is owned by a Somali family, and taken care of mainly by the two younger daughters, Awa and Sagal. They grow mostly tomatoes and various kinds of greens. They've got gorgeous multicolored chard growing up against the fence, with bright red and yellow steps fanning out into deep green leaves. He eyes it appreciatively as they pass.</p>
<p>The plot next to Awa and Sagal's plot is the first of the abandoned plots. The couple who started their garden here had been master's degree students who were just getting started in "sustainable food" and in awe of Jared's stories about working for Alice Waters and meeting Michael Pollan. They'd planted their plot and had managed to keep on top of it through almost half the summer before they'd given up and he can see the red globes of tomatoes hanging heavy on their vines through the screen of hip-high weeds.</p>
<p>"Okay," he says to Jensen, taking the stack of boxes from him and putting them on the ground. "Why don't you start with the tomatoes? It's easy to see when they're ripe."</p>
<p>"Tomatoes?" Jensen asks. "You sure there are tomatoes in there? Looks like the damn jungle to me."</p>
<p>"I'm sure. You can see 'em, sort of toward the back there." He hands Jensen a box. "Go on in."</p>
<p>Jared hears grumbling but does his best to tune it out, grabbing his own box and wading into the weeds. Ruffling around through the undergrowth he sees melon and squash leaves, and pretty soon he's rescued half a dozen ice-box sized watermelons, sticking them into the cardboard box. The kids are going to be psyched to see them, he thinks. Working his way backward through the weeds, he sees Jensen has made his way over to the tomatoes and is trying to pull off the red ones using no more than the tips of his fingers - as if vegetables were going to infect him with something nasty if he touches them too much. Jared sighs and rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>His box is nearly full when he makes it back to where Jensen stands, his feet perched carefully on the only bits of soil that don't have fallen and rotting tomatoes on them. Jared snorts, trying not to laugh - but what did the guy expect? It's a fucking garden, full of composted cow poop and really not the place for anyone who actually owns a pair of Gucci loafers. "You're going to have to use your whole hand for this, you know." Jared says, heading to the end of the row of bedraggled tomatoes and beginning to strip the red fruit with easy efficiency.</p>
<p>Jensen shoots him a dirty look, but continues picking.</p>
<p>The rest of the tomatoes half-fill Jensen's box before Jared declares that they've mostly cleared out the plot and they make their way back to the road. They work through lunch into the late afternoon, mostly in silence. The garden is peaceful around them; the curved walls and the hill drown out the sound of the cars on the avenue so that the only noises are the small whirrs and buzzes of insects and whatever sounds they make. Jared shows Jensen how to find the fairly distinctive leaves of summer squashes and firmly reiterates his cardinal rule about Zucchini - nothing bigger than a baby's arm. By the time the sun starts to fade in the sky they've got more than half a dozen boxes full of various produce and Jared's stomach is starting to ache with hunger.</p>
<p>"I think we're about done here," he says as Jensen walks back to the road, his arms piled high with butternut and acorn squash. Jared helps him load them into the last box. "Damn. There's a lot here - I don't know if everything is going to fit in the car to take over to the food shelf."</p>
<p>"I can stay here," Jensen offers.</p>
<p>"No way," Jared says, sternly. "Your job is to hang out with me and learn why this garden is so valuable to people in this community. You're not going to learn anything sitting around the community center reading GQ. You're coming with me, even if we have to make two trips."</p>
<p>"I suppose we could take my car." Jensen surprises him by offering.</p>
<p>"Yeah, okay," Jared says, nodding. Jensen's enormous gas guzzler shouldn't have any problem fitting all this food in the back and Jared figures he'll worry about the carbon footprint later. "You want to pull the car around and we'll load the boxes up and go?"</p>
<p>Jensen smiles back at him and turns to walk back to the community center, the very top of his yellow Land Rover already visible, lurking in the parking lot. Jared tries to restrain himself but still ends up staring at Jensen's ass as he climbs the stairs. "Evil," Jared mutters under his breath, firmly reminding himself. "He's a card-carrying member of the forces of evil, remember?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * * </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The produce takes up the entire cargo area of the Land Rover and most of both of the back seats. Jared climbs in and buckles his seatbelt while he gives Jensen turn-by-turn directions.</p>
<p>"You know, if you had the address I could just put it in the GPS, right?" he says as they pull out of the garden.</p>
<p>"I think your car might be smarter than you are," Jared teases, and feels his cheeks color when Jensen smiles over at him.</p>
<p>"No, It's really not," he says. They drive quietly for a little while, wending their way through the city streets with the air conditioning blasting on them, drowning out the radio and cooling their sweaty and sun-kissed skin.</p>
<p>They're turning onto the highway before Jared speaks again. "So, what is it that you all want to tear our garden down to build?"</p>
<p>Jensen immediately bristles at the question but realizes it's a fair one. "The building plan is for a high-rise multi-use development; a volume retail store on the ground floor, offices on the second floor and then condominiums on floors two through seven, two and three bedroom units."</p>
<p>Jared pulls a face.</p>
<p>"Seriously," Jensen says, looking over at him. "I don't know how people like you can be so dead set against this. Aren't liberals supposed to be all about development and urban density?"</p>
<p>"I don't think that building a Wal-Mart on every corner is really the dream of New Urbanism, Jensen."</p>
<p>"Maybe not, but it's going to create a projected 600 jobs in the neighborhood. That's got to count for something, right?"</p>
<p>"And those jobs will pay what sort of wages?" Jared says, and his tone is already getting heated. "Enough to afford those condos you're building on the top floors?" Jensen looks away. "I thought not."</p>
<p>"Maybe not at first," Jensen admits. "But everyone has to start somewhere and work will give people in the neighborhood the ability to help themselves, and pull themselves out of poverty."</p>
<p>"Bootstraps, it's the conservative answer to everything." He looks over and can see Jared rolling his eyes. "They're helping themselves already," Jared says, his voice impassioned. "along with the rest of their community. They get to know their neighbors here, Jensen. So they can look out for one another - which, in this kind of community, is the way people survive. Plus, do you know how far these people have to go to get to a grocery store? Miles. Usually a long slog on a couple of different buses to get to the store and then when they get there the store doesn't even carry any fresh produce. And then they have to pay more for what they do get. This garden is important to them."</p>
<p>"But look, one garden plot can't supply a whole family with food, Jared. You've got to know that."</p>
<p>"Don't be so sure," Jared says, smug. "I organize classes where people from the local extension office come in to teach canning and other preserving methods to the gardeners, and we've organized an equipment sharing program so that people can make what they grow last. And it doesn't have to provide them with all their food - just the fresh stuff. Most of us don't actually do much grocery shopping during the growing season because we just don't need to. We're too busy trying to eat everything that comes out of the garden."</p>
<p>They are quiet for a moment as Jensen pulls the car off the freeway and starts navigating based on Jared's directions to the Second Harvest Warehouse. "What I don't understand," he says, his voice a little tentative, "is why this matters so much to you. I mean, did you grow up here, or what? Because for a well-heeled white boy you sure seem to take this awful personally."</p>
<p>Jared squirms in his seat a bit before he answers, his voice a little quieter. "No, I didn't grow up here. I'm from San Antonio, originally. Went to California after high school thinking that I'd try my hand at acting. That didn't work out, obviously, so I've been sort of a gypsy ever since. Worked in restaurants, met a few people who were really into sustainable, local and organic food. They taught me how to garden and I pretty much worked my way up here, surfing from job to job. I met Cindy, the head of the gardening board, when I was bussing dishes at her daughter's restaurant and helped her out in the garden. She was impressed enough that she asked me to stay on as the coordinator."</p>
<p>Jensen shrugs his shoulder. "Fair enough. But my question stands - you're the one who interfered with our building permit and I want to know why. Why does this have to be your one man stand against everything that is wrong with America?" Jensen doesn't know if the question makes him look like as much of an asshole as he thinks that it might. But there is no way he can ask the question he really wants to ask - which is better directed at God than Jared anyway. But why, out of all the times and places that he could have met someone so gorgeous and passionate and interesting, did it have to be when he was involved in something that Jensen just can't afford to risk.</p>
<p>"I don't know...I mean, it's not my personal stand for truth and justice. It's the whole community coming together to do what we think is best for our neighborhood." Jared shrugs. "I can't take the credit or the blame. But yeah, it is important to me. "</p>
<p>"Why?" He asks again.</p>
<p>"I don't know. I guess it's the people. My mama always said that I was too quick to get involved, but everyone I've met is so damn amazing. I know you'll see it when you meet more of them - Awa and Sagal, they're these two sisters who garden here. They've had this totally crazy life, their parents got them out of Somalia during the civil war, and every once in a while they'll drop something into conversation about living in a refugee camp or life during the war that just completely freaks me the hell out. But they're also totally normal American kids. They come down here after school and work in the garden and do their homework, and they've got this amazingly sharp sense of humor and are always playing pranks on each other. Or the family over in 5b, their house burned down last spring and it was the gardeners that organized donations so that they had a place to sleep and furniture and food. The community here...they need this, Jensen. More than they need Condos or a Wal-Mart on the corner. It's something that families can do together, and that the whole community can do together. You'll be at our Harvest Fair on Saturday, you'll see."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jensen isn't sure what he had expected when Jared said they were going to the food shelf - probably something that looked like it belonged in a Dickens novel, with sooty-faced waifs and motherly matrons in long skirts serving up watery pea soup. Or some sort of ancient warehouse with lines out in the front, full of the sort of women that he would have expected to see in Ronald Regan's campaign ads. He didn't expect it to look like a grocery store. There is white iron shelving all long a central loop that is stacked with cans and boxes of presumably donated food and a couple of families are pushing grocery carts and selecting their purchases off the shelf.</p>
<p>They're greeted at the door by a tall, thin woman with red hair and glasses who looks a little bit like a stork and is wearing a name tag identifying her as "Maureen". She runs over to Jared and throws her arms around him, heedless of the box of watermelons that he's carrying. "Jay! It's good to see you! How has your week been?" Jensen feels a strange clench of jealousy deep in his stomach as Jared easily shifts the box to one arm and throws the other one around Maureen's shoulders. Jensen collects himself and reaches into the back of the Land Rover for another box of vegetables and follows Maureen inside, listening to her and Jared talk a mile a minute about the outdoor bluegrass festival she'd been at over the weekend.</p>
<p>Jared sets the box on the counter and Jensen does likewise. "This is Jensen, he's going to be my shadow for the week and hopefully learn something about how urban development affects the little folk," Jared teases.</p>
<p>Jensen smiles at Maureen, who gives him a very constipated look. "I know exactly who you are, Mr. Ackles," Maureen says cooly. "You're with CW Development, who is developing The Oaks at Windsor Park project."</p>
<p>"I am," Jensen says, giving her an interested look. "Am I to understand that you're opposed to that development?"</p>
<p>"I think it's a shame what you people do to neighborhoods and how you force people out of their homes," she says, venomously. And then, turning on a dime, looks back to Jared and asks in a perfectly pleasant voice "So! What have you got for our customers today?"</p>
<p>Jensen thinks it's odd that she refers to people who don't actually pay her for her services as customers, but that's really neither here nor there. Jared lays out the entire box of spoils, including zucchini, squash, watermelons, tomatoes, kale, chard, peppers and beans. Maureen looks like he just brought Christmas, complete with Santa Claus and Reindeer. "You are such a blessing, Mr. Padalecki. Why don't you all unload your stuff into the cooler, over there?" She gestures toward an empty white refrigerated cooler leaning against the wall.</p>
<p>"Sure thing," Jared says, "but look, we've got some mini-watermelons. Can I leave 'em up here and have you give them out to the kids when they come in? As a treat?"</p>
<p>Maureen's smile would melt an iceberg. "Of course, Jared. Anything you want." The tense ache of jealousy is back in Jensen's stomach as he and Jared work to carry in the remaining boxes and unload the produce into the cooler. It takes them nearly an hour and Jared makes them re-do the entire thing twice, concerned with making sure that the vegetables are shown off to their best effect. "We've got to make them look appetizing," he explains to Jensen as he relocates a stack of zucchini to the right side of the cooler so that it is symmetrical with the identical stack on the left. "Some people who come in here aren't real familiar with fresh produce and I want it to look appealing and approachable."</p>
<p>Jensen bends carefully to his task so that Jared can't see him roll his eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dude, I'm starving. Do you want to hit Taco Bell or something?" Jensen says as they're navigating through the city, most of the way back to the garden. His stomach is rumbling uncomfortably and visions of French fries are dancing in his head.</p>
<p>"Yuck, no," Jared says quickly.</p>
<p>"McDonalds?" Jensen offers, since he can see the golden arches coming up on the left side of the road.</p>
<p>"No, seriously. No." Jared's voice is fairly outraged. "No fast food. How can you eat that stuff?"</p>
<p>"Easily. It's delicious."</p>
<p>"Maybe, but it's sure as hell not food..."</p>
<p>"Sure it is. If it wasn't, I'd be dead of starvation."</p>
<p>Jared looks over at him, aghast. "Seriously, is that all you eat?"</p>
<p>."Mostly, yeah. I don't cook and I'm a busy guy. So yeah, fast food, the occasional take out and frozen dinners at my desk when I'm really slammed. What's wrong with that?"</p>
<p>"What's wrong with that? Fuckin' everything, that's all!" Jared looks the way he'd expect him to if he had personally insulted his mother. "There's no vegetables, basically no nutrients, and it tastes like shit."</p>
<p>"I take a multivitamin!" Jensen protests.</p>
<p>He had pulled the car into the left turn lane in front of a McDonald's, and Jared reaches out, disengages the turn signal and puts his hand on Jensen's. "Seriously, no. Take us back to the garden, I'll make you some damn lunch. You can do whatever you want on your own time, but you're not eating that shit around me."</p>
<p>"Yes, mom," Jensen says and pulls them back into traffic.</p>
<p>Jensen fumes the whole way back to the garden. He's been craving that bacon cheeseburger and really doesn't want to eat some damn hippie rabbit food, just so that Jared can prove a point. He's informed; he's heard about "Supersize Me" and "Fast Food Nation". He just doesn't care. All those saturated fats were delicious as far as he was concerned, and if God hadn't meant him to eat animals, he wouldn't have made them out of meat.</p>
<p>Jensen parks the Land Rover and they both climb out.. Jared heads toward the path down into the garden, before Jensen can even walk around to the other side of the car. "No way!" Jensen shouts. "I'm not doing any more work down there until you feed me."</p>
<p>"I know," Jared tosses back over his shoulder. "I'm going to get some stuff for lunch."</p>
<p>Muttering under his breath about hippie rabbit food, Jensen jogs down the path to catch up. Jared heads to one of the smaller plots, tucked into the edge of the garden nearest the hillside and neatly kept with rows of plants heavy with tomatoes and other fruit that Jensen doesn't recognize. Jared steps neatly over the rabbit fencing and busies himself, pulling two round, red tomatoes off the vine and grabbing a handful of bright green leaves from a non-descript plant with bees buzzing around it.</p>
<p>"That's lunch?" Jensen says derisively as Jared jumps over the fence. "Two tomatoes and a handful of leaves?"</p>
<p>"Yep." Jared says walking east, out of the garden proper and into the neighborhood.</p>
<p>"Where the heck are we going? Can't we eat our tomatoes and leaves right here?"</p>
<p>"We're walking to my house, moron. I'm not gonna make you eat raw tomatoes by themselves. C'mon."</p>
<p>They walk side by side, cutting through the parking lot of a couple of light industrial plants, and across the street into a residential neighborhood. Jared goes around a corner, down an alley and opens the side door off the alley. "You live in someone's one-car garage?" Jensen asks.</p>
<p>"It was a carriage house when the house was originally built, but yeah. Pretty much."</p>
<p>It's surprisingly homey, if small. There's a galley-style kitchen along one wall with a short squat refrigerator that looks to be the same age as Jensen himself and a sort of breakfast bar with stools facing into the rest of the room. Opposite the kitchen is a set of stairs leading up into the darkness of what he has to assume is a bedroom. The rest of the area is open, with an old TV propped up on milk crates and shelves built into the outside wall. An ancient rose-colored couch is set toward the wall, covered with the flotsam and jetsam of everyday life. He sees bits of garden twine, a cheap sci-fi thriller held open against the couch arm so long that it's binding has broken, a smelly t-shirt and half a package of skittles and behind the couch, with a truly sick and wrong coating of dust, is an old acoustic guitar.</p>
<p>"Can I?" Jensen asks, gesturing to the instrument.</p>
<p>"What?" Jared looks up to see where his hand is pointing. "Oh, the guitar? Sure, go ahead."</p>
<p>Jensen reaches over and pulls the guitar off its stand and begins wiping the dust off of it with Jared's discarded shirt. He thumbs the strings experimentally and although it's terribly out of tune the tone is sweet and true. "Do you play?" Jensen asks, as he brings the instrument back into tune.</p>
<p>"Nah. I had an ex who did and after I kicked his cheating ass out he never came back for his guitar," Jared grimaces, but his eyes are bright.</p>
<p>"I see." Jensen smiles and tries a couple of chords and harmonics, adjusting the tuning as he goes before slowly running through the opening chords to "Here Comes Your Man". Jared turns back to whatever he's doing to get lunch ready and Jensen happily tunes him out, letting his focus narrow to the rough flex of the strings under his fingers and the ring of the chords through the wooden body of the instrument as he hums his way through the rest of the Pixies tune and starts the finger-picking introduction to some old REM song that he only half remembers the tune to.</p>
<p>"I take it that you do play," Jared smiles, settling on the couch next to Jensen and setting down a plate on the coffee table. It's heaped with slices of red tomato interleaved with some stretchy white substance that Jensen is terribly afraid might be tofu. The whole thing has been drizzled with olive oil and thin slices of basil, and is surrounded by slices of bread.</p>
<p>"Yeah, my buddy back in Texas had a band and I used to play with them every once in a while, when I was home on vacation. I haven't really had time since I've been here, though." In fact, that was probably the longest he'd had to just sit and play guitar since he'd taken his job with CW. His fingers tingled and burned a little from the unaccustomed friction of the strings against his skin and despite his rather bizarre day, he found himself feeling happier and lighter than he has in weeks. He'd forgotten how happy making music makes him feel.</p>
<p>Jared is reaching down onto his plate, taking slices of tomato and whatever the white stuff is and placing it on the bread like a sandwich. "What is that, anyway?" Jensen asks, gesturing at Jared's food.</p>
<p>Jared raises a hand to his mouth, chewing quickly. "It's Ensalata Caprese." He says, swallowing quickly. "It's a salad of fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, basil and olive oil. You eat it on bread."</p>
<p>"So, this isn't tofu, right?" Jensen says, carefully picking up tomato and cheese and leaves of basil and copying Jared's motions to arrange them carefully on a slice of bread before biting carefully into the lot. The flavor of the tomato explodes across his tongue, spicy and a bit acidic but also sweet and so present that there's no comparison to the pale pinkish chunks that he's seen calling themselves tomatoes on salads and tacos his whole life. It tastes like it's almost a new vegetable, a totally new flavor from anything he's eaten before.</p>
<p>Jared is watching him eat from behind his hand which, from the dimples on his cheeks, Jensen is pretty sure is hiding a smug smile. "Pretty good, huh?" He asks, when Jensen reaches for another bit.</p>
<p>"T'is is amazing" Jensen says with his mouth full.</p>
<p>"Right?" Jared smiles, and helps himself to another bite. "Way better than Taco Bell."</p>
<p>"How would you know...do you even eat Taco Bell?"</p>
<p>"I was a teenager once." Jared smiles again. "The difference is that I stopped eating it when I was a teenager and went on to eat real food.</p>
<p>"Whatever," Jensen mumbles. "No one gets as gigantic as you on 'real food'. There must be growth hormones in the tomatoes or something."</p>
<p>"Yeah, um...you're not real familiar with the whole concept of "organic gardening," are you?" Jared makes air quotes with his fingers, and Jensen just laughs. They apply themselves to their food, not talking again until Jared is mopping up the rest of the tomato juice and olive oil with the last crust of bread and they're leaning back into the embrace of Jared's absurdly comfortable couch as the afternoon light darkens and turns toward evening.</p>
<p>"So how does this work, you being here?" Jared asks. And Jensen freezes. He has no idea how to answer that question. Especially now, after a comfortable two days in Jared's company. He really doesn't want to talk about Jeff or political cover or what he's really supposed to be doing, not with Jared, and not sitting comfortably in his house chatting with him like they might actually be...friends.</p>
<p>"I'm not sure." Jensen says, trying to think of a way he can answer that doesn't involve mentioning Jeff or the deal they had made. "I guess that the city council wants more input before they make a decision about the easement."</p>
<p>"From you?"</p>
<p>"I guess."</p>
<p>"And they think you're going to be objective? You?"</p>
<p>"Shut up," Jensen says, cuffing Jared gently on the arm. "I didn't exactly volunteer for this gig. I'm more on the planning side of the build process, not the actual hammer and nails bit."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I suppose that you're a little too decorative for that," Jared agrees. "You really think that this building is going to bring something valuable to the neighborhood?" Jared asks him.</p>
<p>"Of course I do," Jensen says, immediately. "If I didn't believe that, I wouldn't be doing what I'm doing. Development isn't evil, Jared."</p>
<p>Jared looks unconvinced. "See, here's how this works." He explains, leaning forward into Jared's space, trying to convince him. "We build Dowling Towers and bring 600 or so jobs to the community. Yeah, they're service sector. Yeah, they don't pay a whole lot to start with. But time passes, those employees get paychecks and they spend them close to home, in their community. That means that there's more demand for goods and services. So people start businesses to serve that new demand. Then, the initial employees that the business hires get promoted and build supervisory experience. They start to make more money. Meanwhile you've got an influx of higher income tenants into the condos we're building - they start spending their money in the neighborhood too, and bring in the kind of infrastructure they want; coffee shops, grocery stores with vegetables...the whole neighborhood benefits. It's the free market, man. And it works at this...I've seen it."</p>
<p>"Yeah, but it's the start of gentrification!" Jared says, gesturing with the bread he'd just torn off the loaf. "Tell me, how many of those workers with those fantastic retail jobs are going to be able to afford the condos that you are building, huh? One? Two?"</p>
<p>Jensen smiles at him.</p>
<p>"What?" Jared demands.</p>
<p>"You asked me that already, in the car," he points out. He looks at Jared, cocking his head to the side. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Jensen says, wryly.</p>
<p>"Enjoying what?"</p>
<p>"Arguing with me."</p>
<p>"No!" Jared says."And so what if I am?" he adds after a moment.</p>
<p>"You were totally on the debate team in High School, weren't you?" Jensen asks. "Probably mock trial too, right? Admit it."</p>
<p>"If I say yes, are you going to call me a gigantic geek?"</p>
<p>"Probably."</p>
<p>"Okay, so I totally was. So what?"</p>
<p>"So was I," Jensen says, sitting back against the couch and smiling at Jared. "And I'm enjoying it too," and then he stuffs his mouth full of the last bit of bread in order to forestall further comment, leaving Jared sputtering and confused and blushing warm and pink and adorable.</p>
<p>They talk for almost another hour before Jensen notices that the sun, which had been slanting in through Jared's windows, is now almost under the horizon and the room is rapidly getting dark. "Shit. I'd better go," he says, thinking of his abandoned desk back at CW, about the report he needs to draft on the groundwater problem for Danneel. Thinking about his normal life, back in the office, and all his problems and projects feels almost like traveling through the looking glass. Sitting here on Jared's couch, he can feel a pleasant ache in his back and shoulders and his head feels clear and calm - the exact opposite of how he's used to feeling after a day at the office. It's only been a day but already it feels like here, with Jared, a noodling on his guitar and chatting over a beer, he's discovered a whole other world from the one he used to inhabit.</p>
<p>He's discomfited as he makes his manners to Jared, promising to see him bright and early tomorrow morning. Something about how he's felt today doesn't sit right with him. It takes half the drive home for him to realize the problem - he likes this. He likes Jared and the world that he inhabits when they're together. He wasn't kidding about enjoying their arguments but it's more than that. It's even more than just liking Jared. He likes the world that he was in today - he liked dropping off food and seeing Maureen and Jared go crazy over carrots and watermelon. He likes working with his hands, feeling the ache in his tired muscles and building something in a more concrete and immediate way than even the towering high rises that he builds with Eric.</p>
<p>He clamps down on that feeling as ruthlessly as he can, thinks about Danneel and Mike and Eric and his promotion and the way the Dowling building will shine in the sun once it's complete. Somehow, it's not enough and the feeling of otherness persists, chasing him into sleep.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Wednesday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"So, what's on the agenda for today?" Jared hears Jensen's voice say from beside. He coughs, his mouth full of granola, and turns to say hello. It's the same Soulless corporate tool, reminds himself as he coughs to clear his throat and takes a big drink of water from the bottle at his side. Just because you had a meeting of minds last night over tomatoes and beer does not make him suddenly available for screwing. Mind in the game, he tells himself sternly.</p>
<p>"Honestly?" Jared says, once he's cleared his throat. "My plan is take shameful advantage and exploit you for manual labor."</p>
<p>"Oooh, that's pretty gutsy, coming from a bleeding heart liberal." Jensen says, with a wink that makes Jared's heart skip a beat. "What are you planning?"</p>
<p>Jared winces. "We've got an erosion problem on the steps going down to the garden. Simmon's construction donated a whole truckload of pea gravel, but we've got to dig out the dirt that's currently in the stairs and then backfill with the gravel. I've been putting it off, because it's going to be hard, sweaty, nasty work and I don't want to do it."</p>
<p>"What, you put things off? You mean you're not actually practically perfect in every way?" Jensen teases.</p>
<p>"Nah, just close. And seriously, I just wanted to wait until it was cooler and I wouldn't get sunstroke." Jared kind of expects Jensen to ask him why he's bothering, if there's a reasonable chance that the whole garden is going to get bulldozed into a parking lot long before the erosion on the steps is an actual concern. He doesn't. What he does do is almost more surprising.</p>
<p>"You know..." Jensen says slowly, peering in the direction of the steps. "There's probably a better way to handle the problem."</p>
<p>"There is?" Jared asks, finishing his granola.</p>
<p>"Well, yeah. I mean, if you replace the dirt with gravel, that's all well and good for not creating mud puddles, but your real problem isn't that the steps get muddy, it's that they're eroding. Which is a drainage problem - you've got water pooling in the steps, because it doesn't have anywhere else to go. So it makes puddles and erodes the dirt when it finally spills over?"</p>
<p>"Yeah." Jared says. "I can totally see that. I'd kind of thought along those lines originally, but I don't really know how to fix something like that.."</p>
<p>Jensen's smile is absolutely incandescent. "Watch and learn, man." He says, jumping off the edge of the picnic table and turning back over his shoulder. "Watch and learn."</p>
<p>Jensen proceeds to walk back to the Land Rover, and pulls a tape measure, a pad of paper and a pencil and a level out of the glove compartment. "I thought that you weren't involved in the building side of CW's Projects?" Jared asks, as Jensen walks past him, heading for the stairs. Jared gets to his feet and follows, feeling sort of like a stray dog, for all the attention he's getting from Jensen right now. Although... this kind of mono-focus, while scary, is also really hot. He wonders, before he clamps down on the thought, what it would be like to have that sort of focus directed entirely on him.</p>
<p>"Technically, I'm not. But that doesn't mean I don't have the skills. I've got to be able to tell good construction from shoddy work, and I can't ask the rest of my team to do something I can't. Also, I do have a degree in engineering."</p>
<p>"You do?" Jared asks, kind of surprised in spite of himself. "So you actually are smarter than your car."</p>
<p>Jensen looks up at him from where he's crouched on the edge of the stair, measuring tape in hand. "You thought that I was purely decorative, didn't you?"</p>
<p>Jensen spends the few hours proving how purely decorative he isn't. He spends about half an hour clambering all over the steps, measuring tape out and pencil between his teeth, taking measurements of every conceivable dimension of Jared's eroding staircase and noting them on the pad of paper tucked into his back pocket.</p>
<p>When he's finally satisfied with the measurements, he perches on the picnic table and begins sketching something on his note pad, with frequent pauses to examine Jared's stash of miscellaneous building materials, take even more measurements and ask if, by any chance, Jared might have any of a number of various and bizarre materials ranging from a spare tarp to duct tape to plumbing supplies. While watching Jensen act like a geek working on his first science project, while adorable, is not endlessly interesting, so Jared is only a few moments from running off to dig potatoes when Jensen finishes his sketch with a flourish and presents it to Jared.</p>
<p>"What is this..." Jared says, staring at the pencil marks for a long moment.</p>
<p>Jensen is bright red, either from sunburn or embarrassment. "Look, you've got all that old two inch plastic plumbing tubing just laying around..."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I know. I think someone was going to use it to build a play structure for the kids or something." Jared says, confused.</p>
<p>"Whatever." Jensen says uninterestedly. "So, between that and the pea gravel and the old window screen that you said was in storage, we've got about everything that I'd need to construct an actual drainage system for your steps. We'll insert pipes here" he points to the diagram Jared is holding, and where he's noted that the pipes will go, dug into the bottom of each step "... with holes drilled across the top, covered with screen so that the water can get into the pipe and then drain along the edges of the stairs. We'll cover them with gravel and then put dirt over the top.</p>
<p>"This is going to require a ton of work to install." Jared says, kind of light headed. It is. They're going to have to dig in the entire steps out and then put in the gravel and return the dirt over the top.</p>
<p>"What, you're telling me that you're afraid of a little hard work?" Jensen asks, his eyebrow cocked.</p>
<p>"Bitch." Jared says, standing up. "Let's get to it."</p>
<p>Jared pulls the electric saw and drill out of his office, and drags down a couple of sawhorses so that Jensen can start cutting pipe and drilling holes. Meanwhile he opens up the tool shed and pulls out the garden implements they'll need -- wheelbarrow, a couple of spades and smaller shovels. He reminds himself rather firmly that his list of to-dos for the day does not actually include pulling Jensen into the garden shed, working his way into those worn-out jeans and sucking his brains out through his dick.</p>
<p>They fall into an easy rhythm, working together. Jared fills the wheelbarrow full of gravel and then starts digging out the front edge of the first step while Jensen finishes cutting and drilling the pipes that they'll lay into the hole, once Jared has it deep enough. Slowly, Jared loses himself in the movement of his muscles, the rasp of the shovel handle through his hands and the heat of the sun on his back as he works.</p>
<p>A hand on his shoulder brings him blinking, back to the present. He's expecting it to be Jensen, done with the pipe, but he can hear a surprisingly melodic tenor mumbling it's way through a Fleetwood Mac tune, interrupted by the whine of the power saw. Standing before him is one of his gardeners.</p>
<p>"Ben!" Jared says, a little startled to see Ben Nguyen, one of the board members for the Dowling Garden, standing behind him.</p>
<p>"Jared. What the hell are you doing?" He gestures to the stairs, taking in Jared's dirt-smeared clothes and the mess of wheelbarrows and shovels and dirt.</p>
<p>"Fixing the drainage problem with the steps. Or at least trying to." He says, leaning the shovel against his hip and wiping sweat from his forehead.</p>
<p>"Why? They're going to bulldoze the whole site in another couple of weeks."</p>
<p>"I refuse to believe that." Jared says, resolutely.</p>
<p>Ben gives him the same fond smile he'd give a child or an idiot, and picks up a shovel. "Want some help?"</p>
<p>He contemplates saying no, that they'll be fine, because there is something in him that relishes the idea of doing this project alone, just him and Jensen, and being able to capture all of Jensen's attention for a whole afternoon. That thought ends pretty quickly when he looks at the steps towering above him.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I'd love some help." He says finally, and hands off a shovel.</p>
<p>Ben digs like a fury and despite the fact that he's physically almost half Jared's size he clears out two steps to Jared's one. by the time Jensen comes over. His arms are full of the cut lengths of pipe and strips of window screen. He's got a pencil tucked behind his ear and his nose is red from sunburn and he's smiling this incandescent smile at Jared as he joins them on the stairs that literally makes his heart speed up and his mouth go dry with sudden want.</p>
<p>He's the same soul-less corporate tool that he was yesterday, Jared reminds himself as he takes a big drink of water from the bottle at his side. Just because you had a meeting of minds last night over tomatoes and beer does not make him suddenly available for screwing. Mind in the game, Padalecki, he tells himself sternly. It's hard to stay resolute as Jensen bends down in the dirt and shows Jared and Ben how to lay them in the trench and to backfill the area they've dug out with gravel before filling the hole in with dirt. Jared tries valiantly to keep his eyes off Jensen's ass.</p>
<p>The next three hours are full of back-breaking labor, digging out the remainder of the steps, carrying loads of gravel and dirt back and forth and laying in the pipe and covering it with the screen. A few other gardeners wander in and out, picking up a shovel for a few minutes before moving on to their own gardening projects, but most people just smile and move on. The day is heating up and it's really too warm and sticky for this kind of thing, despite the tang of fall on the air.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They take a break for lunch not long afterwards, their muscles achy and shaking from all the work they've done. But a little more than two thirds of the stairs have been dug out and Jensen really kind of wants to turn on the hose and soak the whole place down just to see how well his off-the-cuff drainage solution works. Ben excuses himself and heads back home and Jensen and Jared sit on the picnic table, taking advantage of the shade underneath the arching branches of the tree to rest. The breeze is cool on the top of the hill, and everything seems sleepy and perfect as Jensen's body winds down. Jared bends over and pulls a picnic basket from under the table and starts to open the top, and Jensen smiles.</p>
<p>"Aww, honey. You made me lunch!"</p>
<p>"Yeah, God knows I can't trust you to feed yourself without supervision." Jared snarks, as he opens the lid and starts pulling out food.</p>
<p>"Hey, I can eat on my own."</p>
<p>"Not food," Jared says, placing dishes on the table and handing Jensen a bowl and a fork. Jensen is surprised to notice that their argument about food already feels well-worn, sweet and comfortable, like the ones his grandparents used to have about fishing tackle and credit slips and his Grandma's ever-increasing collection of trashy romance novels.</p>
<p>The bowl Jared handed him proves to be full of something that on first glance looks like sand with leaves and vegetables stirred through it. Jensen gives him a nasty look.</p>
<p>"Oh, get over it. It's taboulleh -- it's a middle-eastern salad. It's got couscous, which is kind of like pasta, and vegetables from the garden, with mint and parsley, garlic, olive oil, and lemon." Jensen is unimpressed and sees Jared giving him a dirty look. "I'm gonna tell you the same thing that I tell my nephews; you've got to at least try a bite."</p>
<p>"If I don't like it will you let me run to Burger King?"</p>
<p>"No," Jared says, "because you're going to like it."</p>
<p>Jensen rolls his eyes but gives it a try. And it's... not bad. For hippie vegetarian food, that is. The lemon and garlic are strong, and it's salty and savory and surprisingly filling, which he doesn't notice until after he's eaten almost the whole bowl. He can see Jared trying not to smirk at him as he takes Jensen's empty bowl and packs it away.</p>
<p>After lunch, more people start to slowly drift into the garden and he and he can tell that Jared has other things to do than finish working on the steps. Jensen volunteers to finish up and let Jared get some work done. He needs a break, a little bit of space alone, but the flush of surprise across Jared's cheeks is its own reward. He spends most of the rest of the afternoon digging, placing drainage pipe and then refilling the hole that he just dug with dirt. He tries to convince himself that it's meditative and zen, but can't quite get beyond the fact that it's actually an enormous pain in the ass and that whoever built the steps really should have just done it right the first time.<br/>Still, he's feeling pleased with himself when the last pipe is laid and the tools are returned to the shed and he walks through the garden, feeling peaceful and exhausted and flushed with pleasure at what he'd achieved.</p>
<p>He loves his job. He loves the intricacies of the deal -- coordinating the surveys, the land purchase, the contractors and subcontractors. He loves watching the money, pushing for efficiencies and changes to build something better and better at less and less cost. And he loves knowing that when the building is done something that he built is going to be around, be useful, for years after he's gone. And while he knows the reputation CW has is well-deserved, he's loved working there. Danneel, Mike and Chad are his friends, forged over long hours at drafting tables and in conference room chairs and hunched over impact studies eating Chinese food as they worked out how to get a stalled project going again. And he's not going to pretend that he doesn't love the paychecks and being able to keep himself in the lifestyle to which he's become accustomed without relying on his family or on Jeff.</p>
<p>And when he lays it all out like that -- all the things he loves, everything about what he does -- it's so much more than one fuck, or even one project. If he screws this up, it's his job and his friends and his livelihood.</p>
<p>So why does he look at Jared and still wonder if it would all be worth it?</p>
<p>He finds Jared on the other side of the garden, bent double in the dirt with three elementary school aged boys clustered around him staring at a row of carrots as Jared gives them a grade-school explanation of photosynthesis and their mother looks on bemusedly. He's got dirt on the very edge of his nose, and his jeans are caked with soil. He's smiling at something that one of the boys has said, and he looks so happy and peaceful that Jensen nearly wants to look away from him, since seeing him like this, in his element causes a mix of emotions in Jensen that he's not sure he can understand.<br/>But He watches for another long moment before he notices that the mother, who had been watching Jared, has joined him. "He's amazing at this, isn't he?" She asks.</p>
<p>"He really is," Jensen admits.</p>
<p>"Their dad has been in Iraq for the last two years," she volunteers. "We'd started doing the garden because I wanted to give them something to do after school, something they'd have to be responsible about so they weren't just hanging out on the front stoop and waiting for trouble to find them. They don't have a lot of other men in their lives who are around right now, and Jared goes out of his way to be there for them, when they're here, so they'll come and sit with him on the picnic table and do their homework after school, or talk or whatever.</p>
<p>Jensen curses his pale skin because the guilty flush that comes over him is all too evident. He knows exactly what the unspoken undercurrent here is; how dare you and your rich and well-heeled corporate job take this garden away from my kids. But really, it's deeper than that - how dare he take Jared away.</p>
<p>They stand there in awkward silence, watching Jared and the three boys comb through the carrot patch, Jared carefully showing them how to pull the biggest carrots out to make room for the smaller ones to grow a bit more.</p>
<p>The kids scatter with their bounty and the woman excuses herself perfunctorily, chasing down two of the brothers with an exasperated call of "James! Don't you even think of throwing rotten tomatillos at your brother!" Jared is still absorbed with the youngest kid who is still asking him all about carrots, and Jensen finds himself both at loose ends and overcome with a feeling that might be guilt. He wanders to the edge of the garden, which is lined with trees, their boughs heavy with the apples that he and Jared will be picking tomorrow, if he understands the priorities on Jared's endless mental to-do list.</p>
<p>His phone rings as he wanders and he nearly drops it in shock. He hasn't been carrying it since his first day at the Dowling Community Garden, ostensibly out of a desire not to get the electronics ruined by mud and water. But really, Jensen suspects, it's been more a sub-conscious desire not to be bothered, either to lose any of the time with Jared's attention focused solely on him or to have the realities of his job, who he really is and why he's really doing this - intrude on their time together, because he knows all too well that it's precious and limited.</p>
<p>"How are you surviving your exile?" Danneel asks when he finally answers, her voice teasing.</p>
<p>"I'm surviving it okay. They've got me eating rabbit food and doing hard manual labor, but I'm managing."</p>
<p>"Good to hear. Eric wanted me to check in, since we're coming up on the city council meeting. Just to see if there's anything we should know about what to expect."</p>
<p>"Yeah, about that..." Jensen says, carefully. "Could you pull the site reports for the B site? I'd like to take another look at them." His voice is business-like and doesn't shake.</p>
<p>"Jen... What?" he can hear the shock over the phone. "Do you know something that we need to tell Eric?"</p>
<p>"No, no. It's nothing like that. I just... I've got a feeling, I guess."</p>
<p>"A feeling..." Her voice sounds tight.</p>
<p>"Yeah. So?"</p>
<p>"So you want me to pull the B site reports and plans, just based on a hunch? Jen, we've been over this. We already know that going with the B-site is going to make the building more difficult from an engineering point of view, and that is going to make it a far more expensive build. We've already reviewed and rejected that option because we decided it put too much capital at risk. We've got formal approval from Kripke and from the bank to go forward with the Dowling Towers building site. I don't understand why you'd want to back out now."</p>
<p>"No reason," Jensen lies. "I guess I just want us to be prepared in case something happens..."</p>
<p>"What could possibly happen?" Dani asks, her voice hard and impatient.</p>
<p>"Hey, they might not get the easement released..." he back-peddles.</p>
<p>"Bullshit," she says flat-out. "We're living in the post-Kelo world; all the city has to show is that the Dowling Towers project is more likely to cause economic growth than the garden is which, given that vegetables don't pay taxes, isn't exactly going to be an enormous hurdle. It's in the bag, Jen. You know that. Your being there on site isn't going to change anything. Jeff is only asking you to do this so that he has some political cover with people who are going to find the outcome unpopular."</p>
<p>He sighs. "I know, I just..."</p>
<p>"Wait," Dani's voice is both suspicious and commanding. "Jensen Ackles, you tell me what the hell is going on down there, right now."</p>
<p>"Nothing, Danneel! Jesus. You sound like my mother."</p>
<p>"Bullshit. I know you, and you would never back down from a deal like this without a damn good reason. That good reason wouldn't happen to be a dirty hippie gardener, would it?"</p>
<p>"He's not a dirty hippie," Jensen says sullenly.</p>
<p>"But he is behind this sudden interest in our B site, isn't he?"</p>
<p>"Um." Danneel has known Jensen since college. They had nearly been roommates in college and it had been Danneel who had nursed him through bad grades and homesickness and his first epic broken heart. She knows more about him than just about any single person he knows and he can't lie to her to save his own hide, which is why he mumbles and prevaricates now.</p>
<p>"Right." She sighs. "Jen, this is a bad idea. A really, really bad idea."</p>
<p>"I know," he says. "Does it make it any better if I tell you that I really, really can't help myself? He's a fucking liberal democrat with no real job and no future who lives in a renovated garage and I'm absolutely fucking crazy about him. I can't get him out of my head."</p>
<p>She's silent for a long moment. "I just hope you know what you're doing and that you remember what is riding on this build, Jen. For both of us."</p>
<p>"I do, Dani. I won't fuck this up." He'll find a way, he promises himself.</p>
<p>"You'd better not," she warns and then changes tactics. "You are coming out with us tomorrow night, right? We're going out to celebrate Tom's promotion, remember?"</p>
<p>"Awww, shit. Yeah, I do. I promised him, didn't I?"</p>
<p>"Yep." She sounds self-satisfied. "Look, maybe it would do you some good... spend a night out in the real world, with your old friends and get away from the back-to-the-land folks for a while."</p>
<p>"Yeah, maybe," he says, non-committal. "Look, I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, okay. Bye, Jen."</p>
<p>"Bye."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It's quitting time, Jen." Jared says, laying his hand gently on Jensen's shoulder. It's heavy and hot against skin that he can feel is burnt from the sun.</p>
<p>"Damn." He says, stirred out of his focus on the space in front of him, the simple concrete task he had to complete. "I didn't know it was getting that late." He stands up, brushing dirt and straw off his jeans and trying to think of a polite way to make his exit.</p>
<p>Jared smiles at him as if he can read his mind. "C'mon over for dinner." he offers. "It's the least I can do to thank you for your feat of engineering this afternoon. And after using you as a beast of burden all afternoon you probably should eat some real food."</p>
<p>Jensen thinks briefly of the work that has to be piling up on his desk in the office -- a couple of transportation impact studies to be reviewed, bids to be read and a project presentation to be pulled together, and that's only the stuff he's already aware of. But he also thinks of the boxes of Hungry Man dinners stacked in the office freezer and the deliciousness of Jared's cooking. His belly grumbles audibly.</p>
<p>"I'd say the decision is made for you." Jared smiles, and leads the way toward his house, with the carrots they'd pulled from the garden earlier in his hand.</p>
<p>"Have a seat. Go ahead and make yourself at home while I start dinner." Jared gestures to the couch. Jensen moves two threadbare pillows, a seed catalog and a pair of socks in order to clear a place to sit. He watches Jared, the late afternoon sun slanting in through the window above the sink and pulling out the red highlights in his hair as he pulls bacon out of the apartment-sized fridge and begins chopping something on the wooden cutting board in front of him. "You got some time before you've got to be anywhere?" Jared asks.</p>
<p>Not really, Jensen wants to say, but Jared drops something into a sizzling red pot on the stove and the smell of bacon, savory and rich, rises into the room. "Yeah, I guess I've got time." He says.<br/>"Great," Jared smiles back over his shoulder. "I'd been thinking I'd make Burgiounon tonight, but it'll take a while to cook. I've got a couple of beers and some salsa and chips to tide us over."</p>
<p>There's not much else to look at in Jared's apartment -- a small television sits on a milk crate to the side of the door and more random junk covers the coffee table in front of him. Feeling at loose ends, Jensen relocates himself to a bar stool so he can monitor Jared's progress. Bacon sizzles in the red pot on the stove as Jared washes the carrots they'd cut this morning and slices them into rounds. He pulls the long rat-tailed ends off and sticks them in his mouth, humming completely tunelessly as he chops. After carrots, a couple of fat onions come out of a cupboard and join the carrots on the block. "They're all from the garden," Jared mentions off-hand. "We picked the carrots today. I pulled the onions and the garlic last week."</p>
<p>"You must cook a lot," Jensen says, a clumsy if deliberate attempt to change the subject.</p>
<p>"In my house as a kid if you wanted to eat, you had to cook. I discovered that I had a knack for it." Jared says, as he turns to remove the bacon from the pot and start browning chunks of meat in the bacon fat.</p>
<p>Jensen looks at the food coming out of the pot and blanches. "Isn't that a bit... overdone?" he asks, nervously.</p>
<p>"Says the guy who eats Taco Bell five meals a week," Jared laughs. "No, it's perfect. I'm searing it, see?" he holds a chunk of meat up to Jensen so that he can see that while it's a deep brown on the outside edges, it's still pink in the middle. "It caramelizes on the outside, which gives the dish a deeper, richer flavor."</p>
<p>"You learned all this as a kid?" Jensen asks, amazed.</p>
<p>"Not all of it. I've worked in restaurants on and off since college, starting with a stint as the worst busboy in the history of Les Halles New York -- unfortunately after Anthony Bourdain left ...although he probably would have punched me in the face for some of the shit we pulled. After that - and after I got my shit more together - I did a bunch of work as a line cook, pretty much working my way across the country until I ended up at Chez Pannise in San Francisco. That's kind of how I got my job here... Alice, who is the head chef there, is famous for being into gardening as a way to source local produce for the kitchen. It kind of started the idea in my head that they go together, gardening and cooking.</p>
<p>Jared pulls the last chunks of meat out of the pot, and drops a pile of chopped carrots, garlic and onions in. There is an enormous hiss and all of a sudden the room smells delicious -- sharp and beefy and savory, an unbelievable aroma of comfort and warmth.</p>
<p>"Why aren't you still there?" Jensen asks, curious.</p>
<p>"What, at Chez Pannise?" Jared shrugs in the middle of rooting around on top of the refrigerator for something. "I don't know... It was never really intended to be a long term gig, I guess," he says, pulling out a bottle of wine and pouring a measure into the hot pan. Steam rises up and the smell in the room takes on a distinctly alcoholic note as Jared stirs. "I'm not a long-term kind of guy; I guess I'm not very good at commitment. That's partly why this sort of job is so perfect for me; I work my ass off from planting season until the first freeze and end up with enough cash to do something else for the winter."</p>
<p>"So you've got big plans once this all ends?" Jensen asks and tries to ignore the tight and panicy feeling in his chest at the knowledge that Jared is leaving, and that outside of the garden, he doesn't have a reason to return.</p>
<p>"Oh, I don't know," Jared demurs. He's facing Jensen, rooting around in one of the drawers in the breakfast bar. He's got his head down but Jensen can see pink at the tops of his ears. "No big plans, anyway. I usually find some cruise boat looking for a chef or a resort who is looking for a dive master to handle winter tourists, work until I've got enough money to take a break... rinse, repeat, until it's time to come back up here." Jared reaches way into the back of the drawer, feeling around before finally coming out with a half-rusted jelly jar full of dried green leaves.</p>
<p>"If that's your secret pot stash, I don't want to know about it," Jensen says, half-joking.</p>
<p>"Funny." Jared rolls his eyes. "It's Thyme."</p>
<p>"Time? In a Jar? That explains something."</p>
<p>Jared rolls his eyes as if to say that Jensen has hit on the lamest pun ever. "Thyme. It's an herb, used in French cooking." He unscrews the lid and places the jar under Jensen's nose. "Smell." The scent is spicy-sweet and musty, and mixes well with the smell of the cooking food, which is almost overpoweringly good to Jensen's nose. "It's from the garden. I grew it last year and dried it. We've got fresh, but I forgot to grab some and didn't want to leave this cooking... since I'm not sure you can be trusted to watch it for that long without letting it burn."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I guess that's a fair statement," Jensen agrees.</p>
<p>Jared adds the browned stew meat back to the pot, dumps in the chopped bacon and several large pinches of Thyme. After a critical look at the pot, and a few hearty stirs he puts a lid on top and places the whole thing in the oven. Setting the hot pads back on their hook, he turns back to Jensen.</p>
<p>"I did offer you snacks, didn't I?"</p>
<p>"I could go for a beer." Jensen admits.</p>
<p>"Any particular kind -- Dark, light, in between?"</p>
<p>"What have you got?" Jensen asks, his ears perking up. While he really couldn't care less about food, he'd had enough friends in college who cared passionately about beer that he'd become kind of an aficionado, when he could be. The microbrew craze had completely passed Danneel and Tom and Mike by and they always seemed to end up at some snotty martini bar where Jensen was reduced to drinking scotch and soda, even though he's a beer man at heart.</p>
<p>Jared cocks and eyebrow at him as if he's evaluating the truth of his interest before he sticks his head back in the refrigerator and roots around. "Let's see... I've got a couple of bottles of Corona, some spiced winter brew..." Jensen makes a face. "Blue moon, a couple bottles of stout... Oh. Wait, here. You should try this." Jared hooks his fingers around a couple of bottles and carries them toward the couch along with a plate of cheese and a box of crackers. "It's a honey-brown ale that one of the gardeners brews." Jared explains, popping the cap off and handing it to Jensen. "He uses honey from the beehives on site."</p>
<p>Jensen smiles and takes a sip. It's sweet and surprisingly light for a brown ale, lightly hopped and well balanced. He's impressed -- especially since it's homebrew.</p>
<p>"I would have taken the Blue Moon," he admits. It's the perfect situation for it, hot and sticky and he'd been working outside all day. "But this is really good."</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Jared asks. "I wouldn't have expected you to be a beer geek."</p>
<p>"What? Because I eat fast food?" Jensen takes another long drink from the bottle. "Dude. This is drinking -- it should be taken seriously. A homegrown Texas boy oughta know that."<br/>"Guess you can still surprise me." Jared says, looking pleased. "We're going to have to rob honey from the bees sometime this week, so you'll get a chance to help out, and maybe bribe some more beer out of Brock."</p>
<p>Privately, Jensen starts planning to contract a contagious disease later in the week. There is no beer nor paycheck nor deal with Jeff Morgan that is worth getting covered in bee stings. But he murmurs something affirmative about how much he's looking forward to it and firmly changes the subject. "So, did you make the chips yourself too? Or was that another gardener?"</p>
<p>Jared laughs. "No, I bought the chips --hell, they're even mass-produced." He points at the bag of Tostitos laying on the coffee table. "I'm not a purist or a zealot or anything. I just like food that tastes good, and it tastes better when it's fresh and in season and hasn't been trucked all over kingdom come, you know?"</p>
<p>Jensen doesn't have a clue but he nods anyway. Jared suggests they put a movie on, and Jensen half expects him to suggest something wanky and foreign and intellectual, but agrees anyway. Jared's DVD collection is small and almost entirely made up of action flicks. They spend more time than Jensen wants to admit debating the merits of James Cameron before settling on Terminator 2. Three or four beers later and they're giggling through Jared's terrible Schwarzenegger impersonation and they end up agreeing that despite being gay they'd both make an exception for Sarah Connor in a nanosecond. But not Linda Hamilton. She's scary.</p>
<p>The food, when it comes out, tastes even better than it smells. Jared serves it out in shallow bowls, helped along by fresh and crusty bread that Jared shamefacedly admits he made himself. The taste, when he takes his first fork-full, is everything he'd always hoped that beef stew would be, but had never been able to find in a tin. It's rich and heavy, redolent of wine and beef, and almost melts in his mouth. The onions and carrots and mushrooms that it's served with have their own tastes -- sweet and caramelized, and deep and earthy - that cut through the almost overwhelming richness of the meat itself. Jensen eats himself fat, exhausted and stupid and then uses the bread to sop up the last dregs of the sauce before he finally sets his plate down.</p>
<p>"That was fucking awesome," he says, staring at Jared, who is chasing the last bit of his own food around with a crust of bread.</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Jared says, obviously pleased.</p>
<p>"Hell yeah," Jensen says with feeling. "That's one of the best meals I've had in my life. Just... what are you doing running a community garden for immigrants, hippies and old people if you can cook like that?"</p>
<p>Jared leans back on the couch, pats his belly and takes another sip of his fourth - or is it fifth? - Beer. "You can't blame me for the food; it's all Julia Child's fault. 'S her recipe."</p>
<p>"But you did the cooking, so I think my question stands. What the hell are you doing, doing this for a living?"</p>
<p>Jared lays his head back against the couch and sighs. "Here's the thing," he says, with the air of someone who has told this story far too many times already and is weary of it. "If I wanted to cook professionally - or open my own place, which what I'd really rather do, since it's way better than wasting the best years of my life as a line cook for some French asshole - I'd have to be serious about it. I mean I'd have to go to culinary school and get a diploma and learn to cook snotty European food made out of pig entrails and how to present my dishes by stacking them all pretty on a plate and drizzling things on them and a whole bunch of other shit that I really don't care about, when I just want to make sustainable, local food for normal people, you know?</p>
<p>And going to culinary school means that I've got to commit to it. I mean, I've got to apply and get in and then figure out how I'm going to pay for it all. Which, since I don't exactly have a trust fund, would probably mean doing a stint in a soul-less office cubical job like yours in order to save up the money and then working part time during school in order to pay the bills."</p>
<p>"I do NOT work in a cubical," Jensen feels compelled to point out.</p>
<p>"Whatever. Thing is, I'm pretty happy like this; summer in the garden, winters waiting tables or leading dives or guiding hikes for tourists. And it's totally my dream to have my own place -- my own menus, fresh local food all the time, regular clientele, doing my own thing. But if I really wanted to do it, I'd have to give up everything else; the garden, the other stuff that I do. And I don't want to do any of that. I guess... if it becomes serious, it can't be fun anymore.<br/>"But, you can't do this forever?" Jensen asks.</p>
<p>"Why not?" Jared asks. Jensen forbears to mention the blue prints sitting on his desk in the office, which include detailed instructions and timeframes for bulldozing the garden.</p>
<p>"Whether you like it or not, you're going to get old eventually. Don't you want some sort of security? Or even to have achieved something in your life?"</p>
<p>Jared shrugs. "Not really. I'm not like you, Jen. I'm not chasing that big corporate dream, you know? I just want to be happy. And this? It makes me happy."</p>
<p>"And owning your own place somehow wouldn't?"</p>
<p>"Maybe. But maybe not. It's a big change from what I'm doing here, and it'd be a hell of a lot of work, in a way the garden isn't.."</p>
<p>"It sounds like you're scared," Jensen says, sagely. "I think you're fucking terrified of actually trying it. Because either way, you'll know - you'll either have tried or failed, so it won't be a dream anymore."</p>
<p>"Fuck you. I am not."</p>
<p>"You so are." Jensen smiles, trying to play it off like this is another of their debating sessions. "You don't want to give up the dream because you're sacred of not having something to dream about anymore. Of having to be an actual grownup, and not play in the dirt with kids and think about how better things might be in the future. So you're feeding me all this complicated bullshit about being a free spirit and loving what you do to avoid admitting that basically you've got an enormous peter pan complex." Jensen says it all with a smile, and there's no rancor in his tone. But he knows deep down that he doesn't want Jared to go. After all, if the garden is suddenly a sub-basement parking level for Dowling Towers, is there anything at all to keep Jared here?</p>
<p>And with the sort of clarity that only happens with drunkeness, Jensen is acutely conscious of how much he wants to be that thing, the something that holds Jared here. He wants to give him a reason to put down roots and be the foundation for him to build something wonderful and lasting on. He wants that with everything he's got in him, enough that even talking about it has his heart pounding and his palms wet. He's staring at Jared, looking at the way his dark hair curls into hazel eyes, at the curve of his neck into his shoulder, and goes a little breathless and dizzy with how much he wants to reach out and touch. The silence between them is thick as honey all of a sudden -- sweet and secret and full of promise. Their eyes meet and lock, and Jensen cannot, physically cannot, make himself look away from Jared's eyes as he feels warm, strong arms go around him and sees Jared bend his head.</p>
<p>His eyes close of their own will as he leans into Jared, meeting him half way. Their lips touch in a soft, breathless kiss. Jared smells like sweat and dirt and cut green grass, and tastes of nothing but himself, dark and wild as Jensen brushes his tongue against Jared's closed lips, pressing inside when they part on a quiet moan. He pulls Jared closer, his hands roaming over skin soft as silk and the strength of Jared's back.</p>
<p>The kiss is hot and desperate and perfect and goes on and on, and Jensen slowly loses his mind in the sweet friction of Jared's big hands, reaching up under his shirt to touch his chest and shoulders and back as Jensen gasps into his mouth. He wants to do this, nothing but this, until the end of forever - until the sun goes dark and the world falls apart around them. Forever - or until Jared leaves. It's that revelation that forces Jensen to break the kiss, to pull back, panting against Jared's shoulder.</p>
<p>"Jen?" Jared's hands come up to cup the back of his head, where it rests warmly against Jared's shirt. "Are you okay?"</p>
<p>He's not. He's so not. He can't do this. He can't fall for Jared and let himself want everything that this represents if Jared is just going to leave the moment that he loses the city council vote. He can't risk his heart this way - not just to have a few days of Jared's touch and attention.</p>
<p>"I can't do this, Jared," he says, extricating himself from Jared's limbs and hands as he stands up. "I just..." he steps toward the door. "I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Jensen doesn't wait for a reply or a response before he's outside, running back to his Land Rover through the soft summer night as if the hounds of hell themselves were on his heels.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Thursday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jared very deliberately is not waiting at the picnic table when he hears the sound of Jensen's car roaring into the parking lot. He's been in the garden for an hour and a half and is currently standing in the middle of a wide path of onions in his own plot. He's disheveled, streaked with dirt and sweating under the sun of a day that already promises to be a scorcher.</p>
<p>He's busy pulling up the thistles and creeping Charlie from between the rows of onions - because everyone knows that you'll get pitifully small onions if you don't weed them regularly - and if he's doing it in a tight white wife beater and worn out jeans that cling to his hips and his ass, and with the maximum possible amount of bending over, well...that would all be purely accidental, right?</p>
<p>Yeah. Jared planned this. And a part of that is because if he and Jensen have to have this totally uncomfortable morning after moment, there isn't anything wrong with Jared wanting to have it on what is literally his home turf. But more than that, he has to know what the hell it was that made Jensen so upset that he turned tail and ran away from him last night. Was it because he was a man? A democrat? Something else? He sure as hell is going to find out.</p>
<p>Jared is not even nearly too busy to hear Jensen's approach, to hear him momentarily stop, as if he needed a moment to square his shoulders or catch his breath and then resume walking toward him. He turns his head without straightening up from where he's working a thistle with a particularly long taproot up from the soil, and meets Jensen's uncannily green eyes.</p>
<p>"Morning, Jared," Jensen says and his voice sounds just a little rough and unsure. Jared wants to wrap him up in his arms and kiss those doubts away, take up where they'd left off the night before.</p>
<p>"Good Morning!" he says as he straightens up and watches Jensen's eyes flick over his body. Jensen looks lovely as usual, with another pair of well-worn jeans and t-shirt combination, this time in a charcoal grey that somehow makes his eyelashes look even longer and his eyes even bigger. He looks young, scared and uncomfortable and unsure. Jared had intended to tease him, to hopefully provoke him either into telling Jared what had gone wrong the night before, or into another one of those searing, desperate kisses. He closes his hands into fists, willing the feeling of Jensen's skin against his palms to go away, and takes a deep breath.</p>
<p>In the dark middle of the night, tossing and turning, he'd half-convinced himself that Jensen had run to be an asshole, or that he was playing some sort of very strange game of "hard to get". But now, looking into those green eyes he can tell that there's obviously something else going on here. He's surer than ever that Jensen wasn't running away from him to be an asshole. Pushing right now might only make things between them worse.</p>
<p>"First order of business today is apple picking," he says, taking a deep breath, and stepping out of the garden to where Jensen is standing on the grass beside the road.</p>
<p>"Apple picking?" Jensen asks.</p>
<p>"Yep. Dan Freedman - he gardens with his wife Lucy over in plot 4A - has a cider press and is dropping by this evening to press cider for the kids to drink at the Harvest Festival. Which means that we have got to get most of the apples picked and put into boxes up at the community center before he gets here at five."</p>
<p>"For the kids, huh?" Jensen asks, latching on to the least important bit of what Jared has said, just like always.</p>
<p>"Yep. There's plenty of beer and wine and mead for the adults but we've got to give the kids something better than bug juice to drink."</p>
<p>"Bug juice?" Jensen asks, his eyebrow raised. "You were a camp counselor, weren't you? Admit it."</p>
<p>"Camp Idauhapi, and proud of it," Jared says. Jensen falls into step with him as they walk over to the two dozen apple trees that line the south edge of the garden. Any other day, the silence would have been easy and companionable but now it takes on an edge that Jared doesn't like. Jensen is staring down at his feet as he walks, kicking the dirt and pebbles with the toe of his shoe, radiating discomfort and studiously not looking at Jared. Jensen keeps his head down all the way to the trees at the side of the garden, and Jared finds himself wanting to reach out, to soothe his obvious hurt, and wrap him up in his arms until he's smiling and cracking terrible jokes about Jared's politics again.</p>
<p>"Okay, Jen," Jared says, keeping his tone light, once they've reached the edge of the apple trees. "Why don't you grab a basket and start picking from the lower branches, and I'll climb up for the higher apples." He walks over to grab the other baskets from their stack and stops, staring at Jensen in the dappled sunlight, at the long line of pale, freckled skin where his pants hang on slim hips and his shirt rides up as he reaches for an apple that hovers just beyond his fingertips. God, he wants to touch. He knows that Jensen's skin will be hot and soft under his hands and that Jensen's breath will catch in his throat as he runs his hands along it. But first, he has to convince Jensen that he wants that touch just as much as he does.</p>
<p>They work in silence for a while, a cool breeze weaving through the leaves and tickling the hair on the back of Jared's neck. The tension between them starts to dissipate as Jensen gets more comfortable in their task, more willing to stretch and reach around Jared's body to get to branches still laden with fruit, rather than shying away from an accidental touch as if it might burn. Their limbs bump and weave together as they deposit picked apples into the basket that Jensen is holding and after while the atmosphere between them clears completely. Jensen is no longer avoiding the brush of Jared's fingers as they reach for an apple at the same time or the bump of their arms as they drop one in the basket.</p>
<p>"I think" Jared says, turning around to face Jensen, "we've pretty much filled this basket. Wanna grab another one for me?" It takes a moment for him to notice what's happening, and when he does his blood runs hot. Jared is standing on a bit of the tree's trunk, a few feet off the ground. Jensen turns toward him as he speaks and is standing frozen in front of Jared, with his head scant inches from Jared's pants. He looks down and sees those green eyes darken, sees the blush creep up into Jensen's cheeks and pink his ears, and for a moment he looks down and Jensen looks up, and Jared can see the depth of the want in those eyes, see how his breath quickens.</p>
<p>"I...uh. Yeah." Jensen stutters, and takes a step back, breaking the moment as he walks over to retrieve another box.</p>
<p>So, Jared thinks in a daze. He'd thought last night that maybe Jensen had run because he didn't want Jared, and realized too late what a mistake this was. But now, in the light of day, he realizes how very wrong he was to think that Jensen was unaffected by that kiss, after all. He looks down, trying not to think about what this could lead to were it not the middle of the day with families and children running amongst the plots and plants just a few yards away.</p>
<p>The morning wears on, and the pile of boxes he had left out for the apples gradually shifts to neatly laid out rows of boxes full of shining red apples, waiting for the juicer. Jared has long ago stopped trying to avoid touching Jensen as they carefully strip the fruit off the trees. Now that he knows that, whatever reason Jensen had for running from him last night, it wasn't disinterest, he purposefully insinuates himself into Jensen's space as much as he can get away with; brushing his arm over those sensitive hairs at the back of his neck and watching him shiver or laying a steadying hand on a thigh or shoulder as he reaches up for apples that he could very well grab from another position that didn't involve touching that hot, smooth skin.</p>
<p>And he can see Jensen reacting, see his pulse quickening and his body tightening even as he watches his mind wrestle with the impulse to pull away, to run from even these little, easy touches. He can also see his actions wearing on Jensen, his ability to stop himself melting away with each careful, casual brush of Jared's skin across his own.</p>
<p>"I think we're just about done here..." Jared says slowly, as he climbs down out of the last tree.</p>
<p>He can see something like panic flashing in those green eyes as his feet touch the ground and he's suddenly in Jensen's space again; close enough to smell the scent of him - sweat and heat and the lingering crispness of aftershave. "I've. Um." he stutters, taking a step back but never letting his eyes leave Jared. "I've got an errand to run. I'll be right back…" He doesn't finish the sentence, doesn't even provide an excuse, before he turns away. It's not quite a run as he cuts through the center of the garden and heads to the parking lot, but it's not a walk either. Jared can hear a squeal of tires as Jensen's enormous gas-guzzling SUV pulls out of the parking lot and onto the avenue.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He has to get away, he thinks as he piles into the land rover while Jared chases around a couple of home schooled kids who are throwing the windfallen apples at one another in some sort of demented game of tag. He just needs some space, some air. Jared is so overwhelming - so incredible, so brilliant and hot, standing shirtless and dirt streaked in the middle of the garden, with the sunlight glinting off his hair and soft sunspots on his bronze shoulders. Jensen remembers too well how perfect he had looked in the bower of the apple tree, staring down at Jensen with hazel eyes gone completely dark with hunger. Jensen had wanted to reach up and lick the sheen of sweat from his back; feel the bumps of Jared's spine beneath his tongue as he laid the other man's body down in the long grass of the verge. He can imagine what it feels like to follow the line of his back down to the crease of his ass, and the taste of him as Jensen licks into his body until he is open and waiting for his fingers and his cock. He can see it in his mind's eye with utter, desperate, beautiful clarity -- Jared laid out on a bed of green, writhing against his tongue.</p>
<p>His cock is pressing hard against the seam of his jeans as he fires up the engine and throws the car into gear. He pulls through McDonald's drive-through without even thinking about it and orders a bacon cheeseburger - the new enormous Angus Beef ones - with extra large fries and a shake and nearly breaks the shifting lever with the force of his shift into park.</p>
<p>He can hardly concentrate on his food. He's hard - God, so hard - and every thing he thinks of sends his mind careening back to Jared. The vision is so real that Jensen can almost hear the buzz of small creatures and smell the dirt. He knows exactly what he would do, he thinks as he palms his cock, still aching in his jeans. He's never seen Jared naked, has nothing but conjecture and guesswork to go on, but he would just bet that he's proportionally built, and pretty with it. Jared would be rosy and red and hard and have that hungry look in his eye staring up at Jensen. And god, those long strong fingers... he can almost feel them slicking him up and opening him for Jared's cock before he kneels over Jared and sinks down on it, so hard and huge and perfect buried in his ass.</p>
<p>One hand is slipping into his jeans, the other reaching around to pop the button and zipper as he reaches into his boxers and gets himself out. Thank god that the car has tinted windows he thinks as he works himself, his fingers wet and chilled from the shake cup making him gasp as they clutch at his skin. He strokes hard, root to tip, brushing his fingers over the sensitive places at the head again and again. He's too worked up, to desperate and embarrassed and hungry to go slow or to draw it out, and it takes almost no time at all until he's coming hard and wet into the curl of his fingers.</p>
<p>The slide back to reality is slow and agonizing. He can feel his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he reaches for the napkins in the fast food bag to clean himself up as best he can. He can't believe that he just got off in his car, in a McDonald's parking lot, thinking about the dirty hippie gardener whose life and livelihood he's about to ruin. He feels as if his whole life is spinning inexorably out of control and he's frozen here, not sure what to do or how to act in order to bring things back to the way they should be.</p>
<p>He pulls out his cell phone, flipping it nervously between his fingers before pulling up Jeff's number and dialing it.</p>
<p>"Jeffrey Morgan's office." Jeff's assistant's voice answers. "How may I help you?"</p>
<p>"This is Jensen," he says. "Is Jeff in?"</p>
<p>"He's always in for you, sugar," she says, and it would sound like a come-on from anyone else except that Jeff has had the same assistant for the last 25 years and she used to change Jensen's diapers, back in the old days in Texas. "Hold a second and I'll put you right through."</p>
<p>"This is Jeff," the gruff voice of his godfather comes through the phone, with a background of shuffling papers and clicking computer keys.</p>
<p>"Hey, Jeff," Jensen says. "How's things?"</p>
<p>"Good, good," Jeff says abstracted. "How goes everything down in the garden?" Jensen sighs. And Jeff has known him since he was in diapers and is too perceptive for Jensen's good. "What's up, kiddo?"<br/>"I don't know," Jensen says, tapping his fingers idly. "I know, I was the one who called you and I asked you to get involved and I'm only here for your political cover. But fuck, Jeff. I'm having doubts."</p>
<p>"Doubts?" Jeff prompts. The noise in the background has faded and he can feel the weight of Jeff's full attention on him. "What kind of doubts?"</p>
<p>"Shit, I really don't know. Doubts about the whole damned project, I guess. About whether Dowling Towers is really the best thing for this community."</p>
<p>"Jen, this is a business deal. If you're looking to do community development you're in the wrong damn business."</p>
<p>"I know, Jeff. I do. But there's something about this... I don't know."</p>
<p>"That something wouldn't happen to be about nine feet tall and answer to Jared Padalecki, would it?"</p>
<p>"Fuck."</p>
<p>He can hear Jeff's smile. "Well, that would be one way to approach the problem."</p>
<p>"You're not helping, Jeff."</p>
<p>"I'm not sure what you want me to do, Jen. Do you want me to try to push the city council the other way?"</p>
<p>"No!" is his first reply, instinctive and immediate. And then quietly, "Maybe?"</p>
<p>"Jen." Jeff's voice is grave and serious. "You've got to sort your shit out, quick, fast and in a hurry. I'll back your play either way, you know that. You're like a son to me. But be sure that you know what you want -- I've never seen you want anything more than you want the kill, the thrill of the deal. If you blow this, you're blowing a hell of a lot more than just this project. Or this one guy."</p>
<p>"I know."</p>
<p>"I know you do, Jensen. You let me know what you want after you've had some time to sleep on it, okay?"</p>
<p>"I will."</p>
<p>"And call your father," Jeff says, before he signs off.</p>
<p>He closes the phone just as he's about to pull into the parking lot. He drops the car into park and stares dejectedly around him. The entire car stinks of sweat and come and desperation and he's entirely eager to get out of it and into the fresh sunlight. But he's scared to get out of the car and face Jared. For the first time in a long time he feels completely adrift and unsure of what to do or say or even who he is supposed to be, anymore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, what are your plans for the evening?" Jensen asks, as he and Jared are standing around one of the water tanks, rinsing the mud from their hands. Jensen is looking for a bit of clean cloth to wipe is dripping fingers off on, which is a major challenge considering that he's spent the last forty-five minutes making mud puddles with a couple of toddlers under the guise of helping their mother and father water the garden. He's spattered and there are clumps of drying dirt in his hair and on his ears and eyebrows.</p>
<p>"Dunno," Jared says. "Other than perhaps trying to get you to eat some real food instead of that pretend slop you usually subsist on, I'm not up to much. Why?"</p>
<p>"No real reason," Jensen hedges. "I just have to go out tonight, and I was wondering if you might want to come with me?"</p>
<p>Jared does a double take. "What? You mean, like a date?"</p>
<p>Jensen scratches the back of his neck nervously. "No? Not really. I mean, my friend Mike's boyfriend Tom just got promoted. So a couple of friends of mine are taking him out for happy hour. It's pretty informal -- just drinks and some appetizers. But it's at this restaurant that is in a building that I developed a few years ago. And uh... I'd kind of like you to see it."</p>
<p>And what exactly is Jared supposed to say to that? He's been teasing Jensen all day, hoping to get beyond whatever made him run last night. And this is an invitation to see inside his head, into his own little world. It's pure and it's simple and there is no way that Jared can say no. "Yeah, I'd be happy to."</p>
<p>"Great!" Jensen says, and gives him a real, sweet smile that goes all the way to his eyes. "Can I pick you up around six? I've really got to go home and clean up."</p>
<p>"Sure," Jared says, and narrowly refrains from asking girly questions about what he ought to wear out in public with Jensen's friends.</p>
<p>They part at the foot of the stairs up to the parking lot, Jared turning away to walk back to his house after Jensen reiterates that he'll see him at six. Jared spends the short walk back to his house mentally going over the clothes he has and thinking about what might be appropriate to wear to a happy hour with Jensen's almost inevitably well-heeled friends. The decision ends up being mostly made for him -- it's nearly five by the time he gets home and he's still got to shower and shave so he's stuck with the clothes he has clean; a pair of jeans that aren't covered in mud anywhere but the hem and a pale blue western-style button up shirt with thin brown pinstripes. He pulls the shirt on over a clean wife beater and leaves the top few buttons open, combs his hair, shaves his five o'clock stubble while fondly remembering a time when he didn't have to bother, and gets his shoes on. He's as ready as he'll ever be for something like this. He's got a little over fifteen minutes to wait and is unaccountably nervous -- so much so that he almost wants to call Misha and gossip like a pre-teen girl, just so he can let his friend laugh at him and help the tension vanish. He refrains. Barely.</p>
<p>When Jensen pulls up, he's dressed in the same snobbish forces-of-evil corporate casual that he was wearing for his first day in the garden; the same grey pants with a plain shirt in a rich, dark green fabric that hangs off of him like the drapery of a renaissance sculpture. Unlike in the garden, Jensen looks incredibly at home here in his expensive car, with his expensive clothes. Jared swallows hard and tries not to feel small in comparison.</p>
<p>They make small talk on the way to the restaurant until they come to a busy central intersection with shops stretching down the streets in either direction. Jared remembers this area -- he'd come here a lot when he'd first moved here and was doing restaurant work, but had moved to the other side of town when he landed the job at Dowling and hasn't been over to his side of the city in a couple of years. And if it wasn't for the street signs, he wouldn't recognize the place.</p>
<p>Jensen pulls the car into a parking ramp, and they both climb out and walk down to street level. As they start walking, Jensen points to a half-block long mid-rise building on the corner, done in blueish glass and warm sand stone. "That's ours," he says proudly. "We completed the build about two and a half years ago, and it's been almost completely full since."</p>
<p>It looks to Jared like the same sort of thing that Jensen is proposing to build where the garden is now. There are big shops on the street level; the restaurant that they're going to with its gaudy lame and neon decorations on the corner, a used bookstore in the middle and a snobby optician and outlets of such mall favorites as Victoria's Secret and Urban Outfitters filling in the middle sections. He can see Ikea curtains billowing out in the wind and someone's cat resting in the window box of the apartments above.</p>
<p>"What was here before you built your building?" Jared has to ask.</p>
<p>Jensen gives him a look. "It wasn't a garden, if that's what you want to know. It was a two-story retail building. It was old -- 1930's, maybe -- and had serious problems with plumbing and rodents, couldn't keep tenants and had a lot of break-ins. We took it down all the way to the basement, remediated the asbestos and the pests and put this up. We pulled in the anchor tenants, and everything else flowed from there -- the buildings there, and there," Jensen points to the big indoor mall behind them and another lower commercial building across the street, "were contracted after we finished our work and brought the major retailers in. Now the whole neighborhood is different -- people come down here for dinner or entertainment. They can walk on the street without getting spit on or accosted for change. There are almost no drug related break-ins or car thefts anymore. People are buying houses, settling in and making this neighborhood their home."</p>
<p>Jensen turns toward Jared, looking abashed. Jared can see the redness in the tips of his ears, even in the fading light. "I just wanted you to know that not everything that I do is evil, I guess?"</p>
<p>Oh, Jen. Jared thinks, abstractedly. He smiles down at Jensen, wanting to say more, but not wanting to lie. Jared remembers this neighborhood from before he moved -- remembers the quirky bodegas and funky little shops that had gotten their starts in those little rat-infested 1930's shops. There was this great up-and-coming designer who had her first shop in one of those rat-hole store fronts, selling shirts and skirts made from recycled silk from old imported kimonos. Jared would drop by and share coffee or pad ki mao from a little stand across the way and chat and watch her work.</p>
<p>Yeah, the whole neighborhood has changed. But he's not sure that an Urban Outfitters is a reasonable trade.</p>
<p>"It's a huge achievement, Jensen," he says in the end. That seems to be praise enough to chase that blush from the tips of Jensen's ears and make him glow a bit with pride.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jensen pulls the door open, letting Jared precede him into the restaurant, and Jared takes a moment to appreciate how the light shines through the dark-stained windows and cascades across the bar. Jensen smiles at the hostess and peeks behind her seeing someone he recognizes based on how his smile lights up. He leads them over to a table where a redheaded woman is seated front and center against the windows where she can peer out into the street.</p>
<p>He sees Jensen hesitate as if he wants to take Jared's hand and lead him over, a simple gesture to ease the nervousness that has been radiating from him since the moment he got into the car. But he can't.</p>
<p>"Jensen!" exclaims the woman at the table, as they sit down. "I've missed you!"</p>
<p>"You see me every day at work. Suddenly I'm away for a week and you miss me?" Jensen teases.<br/>"Of course I miss you. You left me alone in the office with just the boys to hang out with." She smiles. And then Jared watches her eyes move over him. "And who is this, Jenny?"</p>
<p>He turns back back to Jensen, mouthing "Jenny?" with his eyebrow raised. Jensen throws back a forbidding look. "Dani, this is Jared. He's the coordinator for the Dowling Community Garden."</p>
<p>"Oh!" Danneel exclaims, obviously more interested now. "So you're the boy who has been keeping Jenny away from us all week! It's good to meet you -- although you're hardly what I was expecting."</p>
<p>Jared's blush is furious as he says, "Thank you, ma'am."</p>
<p>"I'm way too young to be called ma'am!" she protests. "Call me Dani."</p>
<p>It takes a while for the guests of honor to show up, and when they do arrive -- Tom falling all over Mike and fresh hickeys sucked into the flesh of Mike's neck -- it's pretty evident why. Jensen gets up to greet Tom and Mike with hugs, catching Jared's eye and wrinkling his nose, making it even more evident what they'd gotten up to that made them so late. Jared hides his grin behind his water glass and offers to get the first round.</p>
<p>The bartender is slow and getting the drinks takes longer than it should. When he gets back Jensen and his friends are already engaged in small talk about what he's missed over the last week in the office. Jared sits down, feeling a bit out of place being the only person drinking microbrew while everyone else orders scotch or wine but glad for once to be drinking something higher class than Misha's constant attempts to drown in him Pabst Blue Ribbon.</p>
<p>He sits back in his chair and quietly watches Jensen as he talks to his friends. There's something that has changed in his manner, in the way he's holding himself. He's different than he is in the garden or when he's alone with Jared. It's like he's seeing an entirely different person from the Jensen he's come to know and ... yeah. It's uncomfortable. Especially given that he can totally see how this guy that he's hanging out with right now could be a soulless corporate tool. He's never seen that in his Jensen. Never.</p>
<p>He feels even more uncomfortable as the conversation inevitably turns to local politics and development. He's utterly unsure what to do or say -- he's more connected to the local political world than most people, since he spends his days working directly with the community center and the community gardening board and they're all educated and involved people. But it's not like anyone one is asking his opinion, or even acknowledging that he's present and might have one. The whole thing - being here with Jensen and his friends - starts to feel surreal, as if he's watching his own life through a camera lens and everything is shiny and a celluloid and false.</p>
<p>It's uncomfortable, but probably just as well because once Tom gets on a tear about the horrors of immigration, he's fairly sure that if he did open his mouth, it would be about 30 seconds before they started exchanging blows. It's not Tom's fault, he's pretty sure, since he doesn't think that Tom personally knows anyone who has immigrated to the US after they closed Ellis Island. But he can't help thinking about Awa and Sagal, when he hears tirades like this, and whether they'd even be alive right now if their families hadn't found a way out of Somalia before the civil war got worse. It's personal for him in a way that it isn't for Tom, and although intellectually Jared doesn't blame him for his asshat opinions, he still kind of wants to punch him in the face for insulting his friends.</p>
<p>He is pathetically grateful and relieved when Danneel firmly changes the subject.</p>
<p>"So, how goes the renovation?" Dani asks Tom.</p>
<p>"Good. Well, I mean... we had the contractors in and half the walls got torn out last week, so now we're living in a mess and waiting for the team that is refinishing the floors to get that done before we can do anything else. But we're making progress... making some big decisions, anyway.," Tom smiles.</p>
<p>"Like the Refrigerator," Mike says, apropos of nothing.</p>
<p>"Dude. I so do not want to talk about your goddamned refrigerator anymore," Jensen says, almost groaning. Jared is seriously wondering what about a refrigerator could possibly be interesting enough to be a topic of conversation once, much less more often than that.</p>
<p>"Naaah," Tom says, smiling. "Now with the raise and all, we're totally going with the full sub-zero. It's only $3200, we can afford it." Which is, Jared realizes acutely, significantly more than he makes in an entire month -- even before taxes. The sense of unreality sharpens, and he looks over at Jensen.</p>
<p>Jensen looks... gorgeous. He looks perfectly relaxed and comfortable, prince of all that he surveys. And Jared remembers the way he'd looked that afternoon, crouching in the mud near the water tank, playing in the puddles like a kid and laughing like a loon all heedless of the dirt in his clothes and his hair. It can't be real, the way it's almost like he's two people at once. And Jensen is right there, leaning across him, in his space as he jokes with Tom and Mike. And even after a shower and a night of drinking and under the scent of expensive cocktails and cigarette smoke, Jared can smell the sun and the dirt and the wind on him. The scent of the garden and the earth and something deep and primal that he knows is just Jensen, his Jensen. Jen is so close, in his space and all he wants to do is bend down and take those plush, full lips.</p>
<p>"Excuse me," Jared says, in a strangled voice. "I'll just... excuse me." And he's pushing at Jensen, none-too-gently moving him out of his space and pushing the stupid little chair out of his way as he makes a break for the bathroom and the door out the back of the restaurant that lies just beyond it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What is with your friend, Jen?" Tom asks, looking at Jared's retreating form. "Did we scare him away?"</p>
<p>"I think he just got a taste of how completely out of his league our Jenny is," Mike says, laying a hand on Jensen's shoulder.</p>
<p>"Shut up, Mike," Jensen says, eyeing the door.</p>
<p>"Seriously, though. You can't have expected that it was going to go well. Did you think that we were going to wrap him in our arms and clutch him to our collective bosom?" Tom says, smirking at his scotch.</p>
<p>Jensen glowers at Tom. "I expected you to be polite, at least."</p>
<p>"Come on, Jenny," Mike says. "Look, if you're hard up, we've got plenty of people we can introduce you to. Hell, Tommy was just telling me about this new paralegal they've got over at the firm. Delicious... he's got an ass like a ripe peach. I'm sure he could get you his phone number."</p>
<p>"I can get my own dates, thanks," Jensen says tightly. Looking pained, Tom turns to the waiter, and starts to discuss the scotch tasting flight and ordering appetizers.</p>
<p>Danneel is looking at him pensively from across the table. "You okay?" she asks softly, laying a hand on his knee. He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head. He's about as far from okay as he can get, and it may well be that her hand on his knee is the only thing keeping him from falling completely apart. He takes a deep breath and then feels her soft palm against his cheek.</p>
<p>"Jen?" she asks sotto voce. "Go get your boy. I'll deal with these troglodytes"</p>
<p>He gives her a very small, tight smile, and stands up, heading to the back of the restaurant and ignoring Tom and Mike's outraged shouts behind him.</p>
<p>He pushes the door open and steps into the dark and dirt of the alleyway. Jared is standing there in the shadows, leaning against the wall and panting as if he's trying to catch his breath after a long run.</p>
<p>"What the hell? Jared, are you okay?" Jensen says, not sure where he should stand or what he should do. He desperately wants to reach out and touch Jared, to ground himself in the sheer physical reality of him, skin warm against his fingers. He doesn't, pulls his hand back from its abortive attempt to reach out at the last moment realizing that it would be more a gesture to comfort him than to comfort Jared.</p>
<p>"I think so..." Jared says, looking a bit dazed.</p>
<p>"Jared?" Jensen asks, moving closer.</p>
<p>"I just... I feel like don't know who you are anymore." Jared says and it sounds more like a question when it's coming out of his mouth than a statement. "I mean, I thought I knew who you were; that you were this guy I've been getting to know all week, who plays in the dirt with toddlers and builds me an drainage system like a latter day McGuyver, and looks at me like you're looking at me right now. But... are you? Is that who you are, or are you really like them?"</p>
<p>"I'm me, Jay. Just me." Jensen steps forward, standing right in front of Jared, up in his space. He wants to be able to say more, to offer a more concrete reassurance to Jared than his mere presence and tell him that everything will somehow, magically, be okay. But he can't. He thinks back to this afternoon and how his life has been spinning out of control ever since they first met, as if his eyes have suddenly opened up to something he's never been able to see clearly before.</p>
<p>"Are you really?" Jared asks, and he sounds like a small child who really wants to believe that everything is going to be okay.</p>
<p>"I am. I'm not saying that I might not have seen some things differently before this week. But I'm not pretending with you, Jared. I never have. I'm not even sure that I could. Jared smiles down at him, wide and true and Jensen's heart nearly swells out of his chest. He feels his breath catch in his chest as the air in the alley goes heavy.</p>
<p>"I want to kiss you so bad right now," Jared says, looking down at Jensen with wide, hungry hazel eyes. "Say I can. Please say yes, Jen."</p>
<p>Jensen lifts up, almost pressing his lips to Jared and whispering "Yes" so quietly against his lips. Jared closes the miniscule distance between them, coming down over Jensen like a summer storm, hungry and fierce. He is hungry and desperate in an instant, opening his mouth on a gasp and finding Jared's tongue right there, fucking into his mouth as if daring him not to meet Jared's passion with his own. He groans, and wraps his arm around Jared's back, the other coming up to wind into his hair and pull his mouth down harder, hungrier, pressing closer, seeking more. They kiss until they're breathless, until the idea of sinking to his knees in the filth and wet of the alleyway and sucking Jared's cock until he falls apart under Jensen's tongue seems to be the only possible, reasonable thing to do.</p>
<p>The door to the restaurant closes behind them with a bang and they pull apart, looking guilty, as if they expect Dani or Mike or Tom to be standing there, demanding answers instead of an apron-ed busboy with two bags of trash studiously ignoring them. Jensen tilts his head up again, longing to recapture the heat of Jared's lips and angling for another kiss, but Jared puts his finger gently against Jensen's lips and smile.</p>
<p>"So," Jared says, smiling. "Is this whole expensive cocktails and fusion food thing really your scene?"</p>
<p>Jensen shakes his head. "Honestly? Not really. It's more Danny and Tom's thing than mine. I grew up in Texas, you know? I'm more of a beer and pool hall guy m'self."</p>
<p>"A man after my own heart," Jared quips, throwing his arm around Jensen and leading them toward the light of the streetlamp at the end of the alley. "How about we go get a beer, just you and me?"<br/>Jensen smiles the entire way back to the car and has a hard time preventing himself from nuzzling into the warm embrace of Jared's arm. He pulls out of the parking garage and lets Jared give him directions without really paying attention to anything but the warm presence next to him as they wind their way through the city's evening traffic.</p>
<p>They wind up at a dive bar over on the northeast side of the city, stumbling distance from the river. It's not down-home Texas, but it's the next best thing - old, and obviously an institution. They've got Springsteen playing on the radio and pool tables, darts and come truly ancient video games in the basement. He tosses a couple of quarters in the Galaga machine while Jared gets their drinks, and suitably impresses Jared with his retro video game skills by the time he gets back and drags Jensen off to the pool table.</p>
<p>They're well into their third beers before Jensen realizes that Jared is totally owning his ass at pool and that his protestations of being "really, not that good at bar games" were either a bad attempt at modesty or a flat out lie. Jensen laughs, and loses with grace, which gets him stuck with the tab for another round and a couple of burgers - the provenance of which, miracle of miracles, Jared doesn't object to. Jared steals at least half his fries while they share stories of being kids in Texas and all the crazy shit they used to get up to.</p>
<p>A dark haired man carrying a couple of pints of beer taps Jared on the shoulder with his elbow just as they're finishing up their burgers, and Jared smiles and hugs him and introduces Jensen to his friend Misha and Misha's wife Vicki. Jared's friends join them at the table, and when Jared is done stealing his fries they leave the pool table to others and play team darts, at which Misha and Vicki completely trounce him and Jared.</p>
<p>They order more drinks, and the evening starts to fade into a blur of smiles and bad jokes and stories of drunken teenage idiocy, and a bizarre feeling of happiness and belonging that Jensen doesn't remember feeling since he left home.</p>
<p>They close the bar down, surprising themselves when the bartender yells out that it's last call. They head outside together, parting as Misha and Vickie walk toward the parking lot for their car, leaving him and Jared standing almost too close to one another under the flickering yellow street lamp.</p>
<p>"Jared..." Jensen begins, shyly.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna let Misha drive me home, okay?" He says, reaching out his arm to slide around the curve of Jensen's waist, pulling Jensen in close. His hands feel huge and hot on Jensen's skin.</p>
<p>"Why?" He asks, as he gives in and let's Jared pull his body flush.</p>
<p>"It's closer for them, and they don't have to get off the freeway." Jared says, obviously lying.</p>
<p>"Sure. Okay." Jensen says, a little discomfited. "You gonna tell me the real reason?"</p>
<p>Jared blushes, visible even in the half-light outside the bar. He bends close, his breath tickling the short hairs behind Jensen's ear. Jensen closes his eyes, nuzzles into Jared's warm shoulder, mouthing at the skin where his shirt pulls away from his neck. "Oh." He says, a soft breath, almost a moan. "Jen."</p>
<p>"You sure you don't want me to drive you home?" He asks, pulling away so that they can look at one another again.</p>
<p>"I'm tired. It's late." He says, pulling Jensen's face into his hands, tilting it up so that their eyes meet. "I don't want to scare you away again, and I don't think that right now, I could tell you no."</p>
<p>Jensen wants to protest that, but Jared is bending his head down to meet Jensen's lips. The kiss is soft and gentle and sweet, an almost-chaste goodnight kiss that Jensen fights to turn into something more until they're both breathless, and Jared is pushing him back.</p>
<p>"I'll see you in the morning, okay?" Jensen presses forward, tangling his hands in Jared's hair for one more hot, hungry kiss before Jared gently but firmly pulls away from his hands and his lips.. "Goodnight, Jen." He says, as he turns to climb into Misha's car.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Friday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Before Jensen has even parked the car in the lot in front of the community center Jared is jumping off of the picnic table and walking up to the door, nearly vibrating with excitement. "Jen! Clive is already setting everything up down in the garden with the bees, we've just been waiting for you to get here so we can get started."</p>
<p>"Jared, I..."</p>
<p>Jared turns to him, a dark look on his face. "No way. You are not allergic, I asked you on Monday. You do not have Meningitis, Elephantiasis or Ebola, so you have no damn excuse. Your entire job this week is to follow me around and learn about how the garden serves the community and right now, that totally means beekeeping."</p>
<p>"I hate you, you do know that, right?" Jensen says mutinously as Jared leads him by the hand down to the garden.</p>
<p>"But you still think I'm hot, so hating me is just fine," Jared teases, as Jensen climbs out of the car. In this mood, Jared reminds him of nothing so much as an anxious child greeting a favorite aunt or uncle who has just come to visit. Jared is almost skipping as he runs down the steps toward the far back of the garden where five towers of white-painted wood boxes stand looming, to Jensen's mind at least, like malevolent obelisks of stinging and pain.</p>
<p>Jensen can't remember why it is that bees bother him so much. Part of it, he's sure, is a general evolutionary dislike of anything with more legs than your average house cat. But according to his parents, his hatred of bees started way before that. The story goes that two-year-old Jensen had been playing in the park, looking at a "buggy!" that had turned out to be an enraged honeybee. The fifteen stings that ranged up and down his arms and chest and face had puffed him up to almost twice his normal size and involved a visit to the hospital.</p>
<p>It's entirely possible that he's still bitter. He knows that he's still irrationally terrified. He's not technically allergic to bee stings, a fact which he finds to be the complete opposite of reassuring. He really, epically does not want to be here, doing this, today.</p>
<p>Clive turns out to be an enormous man with inky tattoos standing out from his dark skin and his hair in thick corn-rows across his head who is, as they would have said back in Texas, built like a brick shit-house. Clive makes Jared look normal sized in comparison as he walks up and gives the man an enormous one-armed, back slapping hug. "Good to see you!"</p>
<p>"Good to see you too, J-man," he says, releasing the hug. "The hives are looking fine this year -- buzzing and heavy and busy. I hope ya'll are ready for this."</p>
<p>"We're ready," Jared assures him. "Hey, let me introduce you to a friend of mine. This here's Jensen. He's following me around this week to learn about the garden, and he's been trying to weasel out of helping with the bees all week."</p>
<p>"That so?" Clive asks, turning toward Jensen with a look on his face that he can't entirely place.<br/>"Yeah, that's fair enough," Jensen admits.</p>
<p>Clive's smile is wolfish. "You're not gonna tell me a big strong man like you is scared of a little bitty honey bee, are you?"</p>
<p>Jensen cocks an eyebrow. "Actually, yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna tell you."</p>
<p>Clive throws his head back and laughs. "You've got your hands full with this one, don't ya, Jay? Ya'll want to suit up?"</p>
<p>Jared's smile is wicked as he reaches over to the pile of gloves and veils and pulls out a full beekeeper's suit complete with hood and goofy looking veil. "Oh Jensen..." he coos, beckoning with his finger. It looks like a demented space suit and Kripke really does not pay him enough for this shit Jensen thinks as he lets Jared settle the hood over his face and arrange the veil. "You look fabulous!" Jared says in a faux-falsetto.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna kick your ass," Jensen mutters sourly.</p>
<p>Jared helps him fasten the suit tight around his wrists and ankles with velcro ties, which are apparently there in order to keep bees from climbing inside of his pants, an idea that nearly makes Jensen go dizzy with fear. Clive checks over their bee suits to make sure that they're on properly before he pulls out a big square board that he calls a "fume board" which he sprinkles with a foul fluid called "Bee-B-Gone" that smells like a cross between sulfur, farts and vomit. He levers the top of the hive open and lays the stinking thing across the top.</p>
<p>Jensen startles as he feels someone touch him, but it's just Jared, laying his arm across Jensen's shoulder over the top of his bee suit, drawing them close so that they can talk despite their boxy beekeepers veils. "The bees don't like the smell," Jared says, gesturing toward the hive. "They'll go and hide in the lower boxes so they won't bother us when we take the honey out of the top ones."<br/>Jensen really can't blame the bees; the stench really is brain-searingly terrible but he hangs back as Jared approaches the hive. "C'mon!" he beckons.</p>
<p>Jensen approaches carefully. "Are you sure they're all out?" he asks.</p>
<p>"Boy, you really gotta stop being afraid of something that ain't any bigger than your baby toe," Clive chimes in from where he's working on the other side of the hive.</p>
<p>"Come over here and take a look," Jared beckons with one gloved hand. Jensen is almost shaking with fear and can think of very little that he wanted to do less than he wanted to walk over to that beehive and look inside. He has terrible visions of a fountain of bees -- bees that were still inside that little white box! -- coming up at his face the moment he bends over. But it's evident that Jared is not going to take no for an answer.</p>
<p>There are no bees visible on the box of the hive when Jensen comes over to stand next to Jared. Just rows of frames, like the ones his mother would use for family pictures, hanging in neat rows. "See?" Jared smiles at him. "Not so scary after all."</p>
<p>"No," Jensen says shortly, meaning nothing of the sort.</p>
<p>"Look, see..." Jared lifts up one of the frames, which is full of small hexagons, perfectly mapped out to fill the space of the frame, meeting at the edge like something drawn by a computer. They appear to be mostly full of a white, waxy substance. "Look at all that honey!"</p>
<p>"That's honey?" Jensen says doubtfully. He'd been expecting something more like what he bought in little bear-shaped plastic squeeze bottles in the grocery aisle, or at worst the sort of thing he saw Pooh Bear pulling out of dead trees in childhood cartoons. Not this... geometry lesson.</p>
<p>"Yep," Jared smiles. "Seriously, you know nothing about the natural world at all, do you?"</p>
<p>Jensen shakes his head and gets a pitying look from Jared in return. "Okay, look. Down here, this is the brood. It's where the bees actually live. That nasty stinky shit that we put on the fume board chased them back down into their house. Down there, the bees build up brood combs. They're just like these, but they have a queen who lays eggs. Once they're laid and fertilized the other bees put one in each of the chambers and then all the other bees are in charge of taking care of them until they grow into worker bees. All of that takes a ton of energy so they make wax from glands on their bodies and they build this comb..."</p>
<p>"The bees built that?" Jensen asks. He bends closer to look. Each of the little hexagons is absolutely even and perfect. It's impressive and yet kind of stomach-turningly disturbing at the same time. The bees really are alien little things.</p>
<p>"Yep. And then they fill it up with honey, which they gather up kind of like King Midas... they pack it in to the comb and then fan it with their wings until all of the water evaporates away, and then put these wax caps on the top and keep it for an emergency. Either the winter, or if they get too many bees in their hive they'll split and grow a new queen and go found a new hive."</p>
<p>"So if they're saving it all for a rainy day, don't they get pissed off when you take it all away from them?" Jensen asks, carefully.</p>
<p>"Naah. They're bees," Clive chimes in from where he is carefully removing the top box off the neighboring hive and carrying it to one of the plastic boxes he'd brought. "They don't think like 'Oh, I've worked so hard on this and it's mine and you're coming and taking it away, you big bad human!' They're just concerned with the hive. So long as we're not bothering the queen or stirring up trouble, they don't care what we do."</p>
<p>"And we're always careful to leave them enough honey to get through the winter," Jared says. "So they don't have too much reason to be pissy at us, even if their brains could be."</p>
<p>"Okay, are we finished with Beekeeping 101?" Jensen asks, still feeling a little shaky inside his bee suit. "Can I leave now?"</p>
<p>Jared just laughs. "Did you have some misguided idea that I had you here for fun, Jen? You're totally here to fetch and carry. Here, help me with this super."</p>
<p>Jared gestures to the top box of the hive, which they carefully lift off the top. Jensen finds himself surprised by how heavy it is -- he and Jared have to coordinate to lift the damn thing and place it in one of the plastic boxes. They close the lid in what Jensen is sure is going to be a futile attempt to keep what Clive calls "scavenger bees" away from the honey.</p>
<p>There are five hives total, and by the time they've stripped the honey supers off of four of them Jensen's arms are aching and despite the lingering stench of the Bee-B-Gone, the air is starting to fill with Clive's scavenger bees as they slowly return to see what was being done to their home. Jensen's skin starts to crawl inside his suit as the number of bees buzzing around his head and alighting on his suit increases.</p>
<p>Jared and Clive hardly notice as they team up to wrestle another heavy box full of honey off the fourth hive, and Jensen tries to stay back, out of the way. The bees are thicker close to the hives, and he can see them landing and buzzing past Jared, alighting on the mesh of his beekeeper's hat. How he can ignore them like that Jensen has no idea, but he tries to convince himself to calm down. He really doesn't want to look like a brainless teenage girl in front of Jared.</p>
<p>"Hey, Jen. Wanna help me with this last hive?" Jared asks. "Clive is going to load everything into his car and then we'll be ready to go."</p>
<p>Thank God, Jensen thinks. He takes a deep breath and tries to refrain from checking the overlapping edges of his bee suit and gloves one more time in order to make sure they're still fastened securely. He finds his muscles shaking, not wanting to propel him forward into the swirling mass of bees surrounding the hive. Jared has got the fume board on, which may or may not have driven the bees inside down into the bottom boxes, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything to frighten away the flying mass of bees that were dive-bombing at him.</p>
<p>Breathe, he thinks abstractedly, as Jared pulls the fume board off and they start to lift the full super off the top of the hive. Just breathe. You're almost done. They are carrying the heavy honey box now, which makes moving his arms to try to distract the bees that are flocking even more intensely around them impossible. "Jared..." he says, his voice low and soft.</p>
<p>"Jen?" Jared turns toward him, looking through his bee veil. His panic must have shown on his face. "It's okay, Jensen. It's fine. They're just bees, Jen. They won't hurt you."</p>
<p>"I know. But I don't like this." More and more bees were landing now, close to his veil and crawling along the surface of his suit and the edge of his gloves. He moves to brush them off before he hears Jared's firm voice telling him no.</p>
<p>"Don't move, Jen. Don't flail around. Just... easy. We'll carry this to the car and we'll be good. Easy does it, yeah?"</p>
<p>Jensen feels like he's climbing to the top of some enormous roller-coaster, about to plummet down the first hill in that moment when no matter how awesome you know that the ride is going to be your animal brain is screaming at you that you're going to fall or die or hurt and you'd rather be anywhere than here. He follows Jared, slow and careful in the direction of Clive's truck. They set the super in the last of the plastic tubs, and snap a lid on it. Clive guns the engine, and Jared, who is covered in no small number of straggler bees himself, reaches out as if to brush Jensen's shoulder.</p>
<p>"You did good, Jen. You did real good." And Jared's smile looks like it could light up a condominium tower all on its own, it's so bright.</p>
<p>They're quiet as they walk to the community center, still in their bee gear and probably looking like geeky scientists from The Hot Zone. When they come to the top of the hill, Jared leads him over to the picnic table and seats him on the edge. He pulls the mask of his own bee suit off, and then gently moves to brush a few straggling bees off Jensen's suit. Jen's heart is in his mouth as he watches them tumble off into the grass, pull themselves together and fly in slow circles before heading back to their hives.</p>
<p>Jared stands close, his legs on their side of where Jensen's legs hang off the edge of the table. His hands are gentle and soft against the tender skin inside Jensen's wrist as he removes the elastic bands of the suit and pulls off the white leather bee keeping gloves. They brush ever so lightly at the hollow of his throat as Jared loosens the catch there and pulls the zipper of the suit down. Jensen almost gasps as the cool air hits his sweaty skin, and stops his hands from reaching for his shoulders as Jared's deft fingers sneak between the suit and his shirt and edge it down. Jensen shivers at the touch and breathes deep, realizing that he is tilting his head up, offering his lips to Jared. And that never in his whole life has he wanted to kiss someone the way he wants to kiss Jared right now, deep and dirty and wet and hungry.</p>
<p>"I had no idea you were so scared," Jared says quietly, into the space between them. "God, Jen. You were so brave. If I'd known that it freaked you out so much, I never would have made you come with me."</p>
<p>I trusted you, Jensen wants to say, the words on the tip of his tongue. I knew that you would keep me safe. But he stays quiet. The tension between them grows until it is hot and palpable, almost a physical presence. He can see Jared swallow hard before he takes a step backward, stripping out of his own beekeeping gear with efficient movements.</p>
<p>"Can we... are we done now?" Jensen asks and his voice comes out hoarse and husky.</p>
<p>Jared is quiet for more than a long moment, looking Jensen up and down slowly. He feels exposed, as if Jared can see inside him, deep inside his head and read everything that is written there. "Not yet, okay?" he says quietly. "I want you to taste the honey first. But soon, Jen. I promise."</p>
<p>Jensen hears something more than the simple promise of putting the bees behind him in Jared's voice. They head inside and the community center's kitchen is pandemonium. . Jared had been right, plenty of other gardeners had turned up to help, and Clive is directing them like a general at war. A team led by Clive's wife, Lisa, is carrying in the boxes of honey as another group of people are slowly pulling the covers off and taking out the frames - large, square bits of wood on which the bees build their wax combs and store their honey. Clive immediately puts Jared and Jensen both to work, handing them serrated knives, and showing Jensen how to cut the combs open to get out the honey inside.</p>
<p>The smell of honey is thick in the air as they work, pulling the frames loose from the box, and then cutting the tops off the combs so that they honey can run free. They pile the decapitated combs into five gallon pails, which line up along the wall as Clive spins them in the extractor and Lisa bottles the honey in mason Jars. The combs spurt and leak as they go and they're covered in honey; their feet are sticking to the floor, their fingers to the knives, and their arms cling oddly to their shirts and pants as they move, stuck to them from spatters of honey. Jensen can see it hanging in Jared's hair, golden on the chestnut.</p>
<p>They work for nearly an hour before they finally come to the last frame. The first thing that Jared does upon getting his knife is to hack loose a chunk of wax comb and pick it up, honey dripping down his fingers. "You've got to try this," he says, offering the comb to Jensen.</p>
<p>"You're kidding me, right?"</p>
<p>"No. Seriously, it's good. You just bite into it, try it."</p>
<p>"It's full of wax, moron."</p>
<p>"Yeah, so? You can either swallow it, or spit it out, or hell... chew it like bubble gum like Clive<br/>does. But you've got to taste the honey, Jen. It's like nothing in this world."</p>
<p>Jensen kind of doubts it. But he takes the gushing comb out of Jared's hand nonetheless, and raises it to his mouth, taking a tentative bite. The honey washes over his tongue and Jared is right. He has never tasted anything like it. There is no immediate mind-stopping sensation of sweetness. The honey is warm from the summer sun and the wax of the comb is soft and chewy under his teeth. There is a distinct taste -- peppery and sweet, the way that the wildflowers that used to grow beside the road in Texas had smelled, with a slight mint and citrus taste that lingers on his tongue long after he swallows both the honey and the wax.</p>
<p>"Damn," Jensen whispers. Jared only smiles. Looking for more of that flavor, which was fading entirely too fast from his tongue, Jensen brings his fingers up, about to suck them into his mouth, to lick the lingering honey from the dripping comb away. He sees Jared's eyes go dark, his brow tilt up in a questioning look before he feels rough and sticky fingers against his, and the warm and rough of Jared's tongue against his index finger, just a split second before his finger is engulfed in wet heat as Jared sucks and licks the honey from it.</p>
<p>Their eyes meet for a long, silent second, as Jared finishes, his tongue ghosting along the edge of Jensen's nail and across the pad of his finger, chasing more of that sweetness, before finally pulling free.</p>
<p>"Jay... can we go now. Please?" I can't wait any longer, is what he's thinking. It's what he desperately wants to say but can't. Not in front of all these people -- not here.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They stumble back from the garden, stripes of honey shining on their skin. They walk carefully through Jared's living room, trying not to touch anything that might get honey on it, while staying in gentle contact, touching one another constantly with little brushes of fingers and nudges of shoulders.</p>
<p>"Shower," Jared insists, gesturing Jensen upstairs. The room is all open he sees as he comes up the stairway, painted a pale blue with white curtains billowing into the room from the open window over the enormous king-sized bed, it's white sheets and blankets mussed in disarray. Jensen wonders if he'll be able to see the imprint of Jared's sleeping body if he looks long enough. He lets Jared lead him through the room and over into the attached bath. It's a small room, tucked neatly into a gable of the roof and with barely enough room for both of them to stand as Jared reaches behind him, pulling the shower curtain and turning the water on almost in one smooth movement. The room starts to fill with steam around them.</p>
<p>"Help me get this off?" Jensen says, gesturing to his honey-spattered shirt.</p>
<p>Jared closes what little distance there is between them in the steamy room and carefully reaches to the hem of Jensen's tee-shirt and starts rolling it up his chest, turning the outside bits of the shirt that are streaked with honey inward so that they don't smear anything but the shirt. Jared drops it to the floor and traces his hand down Jensen's bare arm to lace their fingers together for a brief moment.</p>
<p>"Jared," he says softly, looking at his face all flushed with desire, his lips kiss-bitten and wet and perfect.</p>
<p>"Jen". He can feel the heat of Jared's breath against his finger, the voice low and dark. "Please tell me I'm reading this right. Tell me you're not going to run again?"</p>
<p>And Jensen is the one to reach out and close the distance, kissing Jared's lips still sweet and sticky with honey, feeling their bodies close and hot. "No," he murmurs against gasping lips. "Oh, God, no."</p>
<p>"Not going to run again?" Jared says, breath hot against Jensen's mouth.</p>
<p>"I'm not going to run again," Jensen says as he tangles honey-sticky fingers in Jared's hair and pulls his mouth down for a wild kiss, biting at his lips from pure desire. The kiss grows dizzyingly hungry, Jared's lips biting at his as they trade control. "Only you -" Jensen whispers, as he moves to kiss and licks down Jared's neck and his fingers undo the sticky buttons down Jared's front "-could make beekeeping-" more kisses, and Jensen can smell the rich scent of honey in Jared's hair, sticky under his nose. "-look that sexy."</p>
<p>They fumble together - fingers fat and sticky, arms sore from their hard work - to divest one another of their clothes. Jensen feels his fingers spreading the sweet stickiness of honey over Jared's belly as he maps the dips of muscles and whorls of hair while Jared works his jeans down over his hips and his achingly hard cock. The moment they're free of their clothes Jared's hands are back on Jensen's hips, steadying him and pushing him back against the shower wall underneath the hot spray. He stands breathless and lets Jared mouth over every inch of his chest, discovering hidden spots that make him hiss and writhe and sucking red marks across his belly as if he really were eating him alive.</p>
<p>Water is cascading down over Jared's face as looks up at Jensen, as if to beg for permission as he goes to his knees on the cold floor. "Yeah. Jared, please, yes..." Jensen manages to whimper out and then the heat of the shower is replaced by the hot suction of Jared's mouth, swallowing him down to the root. It's tight and hot and perfect and it's been forever since he's had someone touch him like this -- like they want to climb inside him, like it's him that they're touching and not a nameless faceless body. Jared's lips are stretched around him and he has his eyes closed in a picture of perfect surrender as his mouth works to take Jensen apart -- tonguing at the head of his cock until he can hardly stand the sweet, sharp pleasure anymore before sucking him down into his throat again. It's so good that he isn't going to last, he's digging his fingernails into his palms and fighting not to come, panting under the assault of so much pleasure.</p>
<p>Jared pulls away for a second, licking and kissing across his dick, nuzzling into his crotch and rubbing his cheek over his thigh as he moans and whispers. "It's good, it's okay. Come on, Jen... wanna taste you."</p>
<p>Jensen groans, hungry and desperate as Jared's mouth goes back to his cock, winding him back up to the brink and then over it in a one moment long, deep, sweet suction, bringing him over into an orgasm that leaves him breathless and boneless, sliding down the wall of Jared's shower until they're both on the floor, shaking against one another.</p>
<p>Jared is still hard, and Jensen reaches out to touch, wanting desperately to get his hand around the silky skin of that thick, beautiful cock and feel it pulse in his hand as he makes Jared moan. But Jared pushes Jensen's hand away when he goes to touch him, to bring him off. "No, Jen. Please. Wanna fuck you, want it so bad."</p>
<p>"Yeah," Jensen says into Jared's shoulder, licking against the skin. "God, Jared. Yeah. I want you to. We gotta get out of the shower first, though."</p>
<p>Jared manhandles him to his feet and then backwards out of the bathroom leaving it to Jensen to remember such exigencies as turning off the shower. They collapse onto the bed with their bodies still dripping and Jared's hands moving wildly against his skin. "Want you," Jared whispers, as he lays Jensen down on his back in that enormous white bed, his wet body leaving dark, damp prints in the sheets. "You're gonna feel so good around my cock." Jensen watches Jared reach over the side of the bed for lube, watches him slick up those long fingers, and makes a mindless hungry keening noise as Jared's arms spread his legs wide open. Jared is looking down at him as if he's starving and he meets lust-darkened hazel eyes as he feels the cool tip of one finger across his hole.</p>
<p>He braces himself for the feeling of being entered, expects Jared to press in and open him up. He doesn't. Jared's fingers play along his skin, gently teasing the rim of Jensen's ass with his finger every bit as delicately as he would with his tongue, until Jensen is whimpering just from the teasing sensation of Jared's finger playing against his ass. He's hungry for it, begging to get something inside of him and craving the feeling of being opened up, of being full. The thrust of Jared's finger, when it finally comes, has him moaning and pushing back, fucking himself on Jared's hand. It's so far from enough. He's begging for more before Jared even starts to move. Jared gives it to him, a hot burn inside as he works his hips down on Jared's fingers, hungry and desperate. It isn't until Jared has opened him up, scissoring so slow and sweet, that Jared angles his hand up seeking that spot that sends mindless pleasure rushing through his body. Jensen gasps and moans and shifts his hips, desperate for more of that perfect, amazing sensation and hears Jared's breath catch as those fingers pull out slowly instead, leaving him empty and wanting.</p>
<p>He opens his eyes, seeing Jared roll the condom over his cock - huge, flushed and hard for him and so fucking pretty, where it curves up against his belly. "God, Jen. So beautiful like this, all spread out for me," Jared whispers, reaching for the lube. He can hear the soft snap of the lid, and the hiss of Jared's in-drawn breath as he fists himself and slicks the liquid over his cock, but his eyes don't leave Jared's, loving how blown with desire he looks -- flushed and hungry and half mad with wanting.</p>
<p>Jared closes his eyes, as if he's holding himself back from coming right there on the spot before bending back to Jensen, close enough that he can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. And then Jared's hands are on him and the blunt head of his cock is pressing against his ass and he feels his body yield and the hot, burning slide inside.</p>
<p>And, oh, God. He loves this feeling, being stretched so wide, so open. He's always loved it -- the pain and the ache that turns into such overwhelming pleasure, the feeling of having someone inside of him. But fuck..., he thinks, as Jared begins to move inside of him, has it ever been this good? Jared moves slowly, hard and sure inside him like he's a goddamn force of nature. Jensen presses back, canting his hips until Jared is hitting him just right, sending waves of hungry pleasure cascading across Jensen's nerves. "Jay... yeah," he grits out, his eyes closed against the incredible feeling of Jared moving over him, inside and all around him.</p>
<p>Jared is biting at his throat and his jaw, sucking at his earlobe as he whispers in his ear, "Good... so good for me, Jen." Jensen wraps his legs around Jared's waist to pull his hard cock even further inside his body, throwing his head back as his whole body shakes and shivers in mindless pleasure. He can feel Jared's rhythm speed up and hear his breathing labor, those hot little moans and whimpers coming faster and loud now as Jared's fingers clutch his hips tight enough to leave marks that Jensen can't even feel now, so caught up in sensation.</p>
<p>Then, Jared's hand is on his cock, nearly painful as it jacks him. He can feel Jared, right on the brink as Jensen feels himself coming wet and hot between their bellies and pulling Jared over with him, watching as his eyes go wide and his mouth goes slack and that beautiful body is wracked by the power of his orgasm.</p>
<p>They collapse into the sheets together, panting and kissing, slow to move or to disentangle themselves from one another until Jensen hears Jared's belly rumble.</p>
<p>"Hungry?" He asks, curling around Jared's shoulder to bite at his neck.</p>
<p>"Hmm. Yeah, actually. It's only like 6:30."</p>
<p>"Dinner time," Jensen says with a smile. "You gonna cook for me?"</p>
<p>"We can't just order a pizza?" Jared asks, sleepily.</p>
<p>Jensen laughs. "Please tell me you're kidding. All that hot sex and you're going to reward me with Domino's?"</p>
<p>Jared turns to look at him. "Okay, when you put it that way, you do kind of have a point..." he says, as he pulls himself out of bed, fishing around on the floor for boxers and a t-shirt. "I'll be back in a bit."</p>
<p>Jensen lets himself fall into a light doze, registering the sound of Jared banging pots in the kitchen downstairs, the light breeze from outside and the delicious smell of cooking food filling the room. It seems like no time at all has passed before Jared's weight settles on the bed. He has an enormous shallow bowl in his hands and two forks. The smell coming out of the bowl is like heaven itself -- rich and savory and smoky-sweet. Jared passes Jensen a fork.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Jensen asks, as he raises a fork full of noodles to his mouth. The sauce is rich, perfect with the salt and smoke of the bacon, messy and creamy-rich on his tongue.<br/>"It's Fettuchini Carbonara," Jared says, with his mouth full. "It's my patented post-sex treat, reserved for only the dates I want to have stay. If you didn't love me forever, you will be the time we're done eating this." Jared is smiling, clearly kidding, but Jensen's heart swells anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He awakens some time in the night with Jared laying half on top of him and his bladder screaming. He carefully extricates himself and picks his way across the messy floor of Jared's bedroom until he makes it to the still damp floor of the bathroom. He pees for what seems like an age and finds himself unaccountably awake when he's finished, even though the green numbers on the clock radio next to Jared's bed tell him that it's the small hours of the morning.</p>
<p>He steps out into Jared's bedroom and freezes for a moment, staring at Jared, laying tangled in the sheets and abandoned to sleep, looking so sweet, so perfect. Jensen feels for a moment like he could stand here and look at him all night, watch the way the moonlight traces its way across his golden skin, the way the light touches him as it changes from twilight to morning.</p>
<p>And yet, reality intrudes.</p>
<p>Jensen sneaks carefully down the creaking wooden staircase and into the cluttered, messy living room. His jacket is where he left it when they came in, draped over the edge of Jared's banister. He reaches into the pocket and fishes out his cell phone, turning it over and over in his hands and weighing his options.</p>
<p>He is duty-bound to CW and to Eric to make sure that the easement gets removed so that they can complete the Dowling Towers project, on time and on budget. It's his job, and until recently what he thought was his calling. But completing the Dowling Towers build means destroying the Community Garden. And when the garden disappears, so will Jared. And here in the middle of the night, wandering around Jared's living room with the scent of him heavy in the air, Jensen isn't at all sure that he can face that. Thinking back on his life it seems wan in his mind; meetings in stuffy conference rooms, reviewing dull impact statements, meals out of the microwave and without running political commentary, all of which seem dull and lifeless and suddenly utterly unappetizing to him.<br/>But what could he offer Jared in return? If Jared stays he'd be giving up so much -- God, the whole world, really -- just to be with Jensen. And who is he to compete with hand-feeding iguanas in Honduras or diving with reef sharks in Manila?</p>
<p>Jared would be a fool to stay. And yet Jensen isn't sure he can live with himself if he lets him leave.</p>
<p>He thumbs his phone on and hits speed dial. It's the crack of dawn, and he can't imagine that he'll do anything more than leave a message but Jeff picks up his cell on the fourth ring. "Hello?" he says, his voice whisky-soft.</p>
<p>"Jeff?"</p>
<p>"Jen? You okay?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," he breathes quietly. "Yeah, I'm good. Did I wake you?"</p>
<p>"Naah," Jeff says, in a voice that tells Jensen that he totally did. "I'd just about passed out on the couch. What's up?"</p>
<p>Jensen bites his lip. He can still smell - hell, still feel - Jared, on him, in him and all around him. He can't do this. No matter what he's losing -- Eric, Danneel, his whole life and career. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. "The Dowling Project. Can you push the council the other way?"</p>
<p>He hears Jeff take a deep breath, hears the scratch of his hands rubbing over the stubble of his beard. "Jen, you know I'll back your play on this one. You know that. But are you sure here? This isn't just a post-coital whim?"</p>
<p>"Post-Coital?" Jensen says, a bit shocked.</p>
<p>"You're calling me at two-thirty in the morning. It'd damn well better be post-coital," Jeff growls.<br/>Jensen smiles. "No, Jeff. I'm sure." And in this moment, with the ghost of Jared's caresses still echoing down his nerves, he is. Utterly and completely sure. He may -- hell, he probably will lose him anyway. But his hands will be clean. Jensen will not lose him through any act of his own. He has done everything that he can do to make this come out right.</p>
<p>"Alright, Jen. I don't know how much I can do -- I've only got 36 hours before the vote. But whatever I've got, it's yours."</p>
<p>"Thank you, Jeff." He closes his eyes in heartfelt relief and he can feel his Godfather smile through the phone line.</p>
<p>"What is family for, kiddo? Just, take care of yourself, okay? No matter how this is going to go down, it's gonna be messy."</p>
<p>"I know, Jeff."</p>
<p>"Okay. Get some sleep, kiddo. And call your ---" Jensen hangs up the phone before Jeff can finish.<br/>Jensen puts the phone down and opens his eyes. For a long while he sits quietly and stares off into the corners of Jared's living room as the enormity of what he has just done crashes over him like waves. Eventually, they pass. He's no longer panicked or regretful or terrified. He feels... good. Happy. It's like a weight that he didn't even know that he was carrying has disappeared from his shoulders. He thinks about Jared, laid out across the bed upstairs, tangled in dirty white sheets that smell of their sweat and sex, with the wind billowing through his hair. He thinks about the few weeks they'll have before the end of the season, thinks about seeing him again in the springtime, how he'll come back with skin tanned nearly bronze and blond highlights in his hair with a million new stories to share. It feels good, yet achingly bittersweet.</p>
<p>His heart is still pounding like a trip hammer and he's too keyed up to go upstairs and sleep. He shuffles over and takes the guitar out from the corner Jared had relegated it to, settling it across his lap on the couch. He starts slow, idly picking an old Irish waltz out on the strings, letting his fingers feel their way along the frets as the waltz becomes an old Dire Straits tune. As that tune comes to an end he moves on to another and then another, moving by whim and humming quietly along with the guitar. As the light turns from black to blue outside Jensen finds himself slowly picking out a melody that has grown in his head during all his long hours in the garden. He's lost track of anything but the feeling of the guitar in his hands when he hears the creak of the stairs and Jared's sleep-soft voice.</p>
<p>"Insomnia?" Jared asks, from the bottom step.</p>
<p>Jensen shakes his head and turns toward Jared, answering with a small and hopeful smile.</p>
<p>Jared crosses the space between them, his bare feet padding against the floor in the silence and kneels in front of the couch, laying his palm against Jensen's face. "Come to bed, baby," he whispers against Jensen's lips. "I'll help you sleep."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Saturday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Good morning, sunshine!" Jared says, his voice pulling Jensen back into consciousness. He blinks sleepily -- the room is almost obnoxiously bright with the sun pouring in through the windows as he opens his gritty eyes. He'd called Jeff at 2:30 and had been up for at least a good hour before Jared had pulled him back to bed for a long, slow, sweet fuck that had left them both sated and exhausted, curled into one another in the damp sheets as the sun rose. If he's lucky, that was a couple of hours ago. His body aches with exhaustion and he can't understand how Jared is so damn awake. It's pathological.</p>
<p>Jared is, however, carrying a tray full of plates that show every sign of containing breakfast, and he can smell the distinctive aroma of coffee, which means that despite his irritating cheerfulness, Jensen nearly wants to tackle him to the floor and express his overwhelming love and gratitude. Peeking over the edge of the beat up wooden tray, Jensen can see heaps of soft golden French toast piled with banana slices and the chipped edges of two steaming cups.</p>
<p>Jared smiles. "Tony Bourdain says that before you sleep with someone you should be able to make them a proper breakfast in the morning." he says as he sets the tray down and climbs up on the bed beside Jensen. "And Bananas Foster French Toast is sort of a morning-after specialty of mine. I haven't had anyone to share it with in a long time." And is that a blush he can see creeping up over Jared's cheekbones in the early morning sunlight?</p>
<p>"So, what's your the agenda for this morning?" he asks, as they arrange themselves on the bed and sort out plates and silverware.</p>
<p>"I've got a ton of stuff to do to get ready for the Harvest Fair," Jared says, tucking into his food as Jensen applies himself to his coffee, nearly finishing the mug in one long, burning hot swallow and eyeing Jared's coffee hungrily. "But seriously, man. I don't expect you to hang out with me all day. You've more than fulfilled the requirements - you deserve some time off."</p>
<p>Jensen gives him a dirty look but forbears commenting so he can focus on his food. The French toast is rich and soft and creamy and absolutely soaking in caramel sauce. Jensen finishes his entire serving and strongly considers tipping his plate and licking the remainder off the china. He runs his finger through the puddle of caramel sauce and sticks it in his mouth to lick off. Jared's eyes go dark and hungry when he does it and he figures that any idea involving licking is probably out, given the amount of work Jared has to do today. And while he would like nothing better than to spend every single second of the time they've got left reenacting last night, he knows Jared well enough by now to realize that he's not going to let the other gardeners down. Which is probably smart -- while they might adore Jared, they're significantly less sold on him, and they have pitchforks, and know how to use them.</p>
<p>Jensen just wishes that he'd figured that out a week ago.</p>
<p>They dress when they're done eating, the process slow and awkward -- caught between embarrassment at the newness of each other's bodies and the desire to put off going out in public, to fan the ember of this new connection between them in the solitude of Jared's bedroom for just a little bit longer. When they're clothed, they leave the house and walk over to the garden slowly, taking their time wandering through the quiet weekend morning sunlight and letting their shoulders and hands brush as they go. Jensen feels a little curl of heat gather in his belly every time they touch.</p>
<p>The garden, when they get there, is already crawling with activity. Cars are backed up around the corner, seeking space to pull into the parking lot and a small band of teenagers is hanging around the stairs helping to wrestle coolers and folding tables and stacks of cheap plastic chairs down the steep steps and into the garden, where another group is arranging them around card tables and makeshift trestle tables, fanning out paper tablecloths, stringing electrical cords and hanging lights. Jensen takes a moment to watch them, reminded forcibly of the frenetic industry of the bees in their hive, although not without repressing a shiver.</p>
<p>Jared leads him inside the community center, into the cavernous industrial kitchen. On the counter in front of them, piled in a veritable mountain is the collected bounty of the entire late-summer garden in a riot of purples and greens and red punctuated by the bright orange of carrots and the dull brown-red of potatoes. Jared's smile is incandescent as he walks over to stands in front of the pile, sorting through produce like a kid in front of a toy box.</p>
<p>When he's separated everything into incomprehensible piles, he turns to Jensen. "You ready to play sous chef?"</p>
<p>He can hardly think of anything he's less qualified for, but nods, unwilling to give up any seconds of precious time with Jared, even in the face of looking like a complete idiot.</p>
<p>"Okay. First order of business - I'd meant to start baking the bread that I promised to make yesterday, but since we got a little distracted last night, we'll have to do it right now, if we want it to rise and bake in time."</p>
<p>Those words kick off an absolutely flurry of activity. Jared mixes dough for bread while Jensen is handed a vegetable peeler and a knife and set loose on a pile of carrots. Jensen sets to work on the carrots, peeling over a convenient compost bucket so that he can watch Jared make bread. The work seems to be simple - yeast, warm water, salt and flour. Jared throws things into bowls without resorting to a measuring cup, shaking the flour from it's bag and cupping the salt in his huge warm hand.</p>
<p>Jared covers several bowls of dough with kitchen towels and sets them aside before inspecting Jensen's work. He proclaims Jensen's job with the carrots to be good enough and directs him toward the sink and a seemingly endless pile of lettuce and other green leafy vegetables that need to be cleaned and dried under Jared's watchful eye as he whisks together mustard and vinegar and olive oil for traditional vinaigrette.</p>
<p>Jared whirls around the kitchen like a dervish -- chopping and measuring, mixing and sorting, doing so many things at once that Jensen can't follow what he's doing and is reduced to taking shouted orders from across the room as they work together on some plan that exists only in Jared's mind. It's like watching an artist work, or a general. He's absolutely commanding, resolute and confident like this, and Jensen really wishes that he could see Jared in charge of his own restaurant, a white-coated genius and the Captain of all he surveys.</p>
<p>It's a bit past noon and Jared has him scraping the insides of roasted eggplant into a bowl and going at them with an immersion blender as he adds roasted garlic and lemon juice when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees Jeff's name on the caller ID. "I've got to take this," he says, dropping the spoon and the leathery carcass of the eggplant that he was formerly disemboweling. He ducks out the front door and across the hall to the repurposed storage closet that Jared has taken over as his office, closing the door before he thumbs the phone on.</p>
<p>"Jeff?"</p>
<p>"Hey Jen," Jeff says and he doesn't have to say anything more than that to let Jen know that he has bad news.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" Jensen asks, hoping and praying that something has happened to a family member or that there is some other crisis that does not touch at all on the Dowling project.</p>
<p>"I've been talking to the council members all morning, Jensen," Jeff says. "They're not inclined to budge."</p>
<p>"They're going to remove the easement?" Jensen says, his hands going clammy and his legs shaking with adrenaline.</p>
<p>"It's looking that way," Jeff says, sounding dejected.</p>
<p>"What can we do?" He can hear the panic in his own voice. "Jeff, there has to be something that we can do in a situation like this."</p>
<p>Jeff's reply is brusque. "Well, if you've got any ideas, I'd love to hear them."</p>
<p>Jensen searches his mind, trying to think of something that he could offer, some way that he could make them see. "I don't know what options we've got, Jen," Jeff continues. "Honestly, I think they were pretty disposed to go with removing the easement in the beginning... the tax base arguments are hard to ignore. And after Eric sweetened the pot by adding more low-income units to the Dowling project... well, I worked damn hard to give them an offer that they couldn't refuse. I guess I might have oversold it." He can hear recrimination sneaking into his godfather's tone.</p>
<p>"Jeff, this isn't your fault," Jensen says, his heart aching with it. "I sent you over there, you were acting on my orders. It wasn't your fault that I didn't realize -" his voice breaks off. He doesn't want to think about how he wanted to end that sentence. About the admission he just nearly made to Jeff, but can't yet say to himself or to Jared.</p>
<p>"Look, Jen... this isn't over. I'll keep working on them, and keep you posted. I'm still backing you. Just... I wanted you to be prepared for any eventuality."</p>
<p>Jensen takes a deep breath. "Alright. I'll let you know if I think of anything that might help."</p>
<p>"Hang in there, son. This may yet come out alright."</p>
<p>Jensen closes his phone. It isn't until he's collected himself, wiped his eyes and taken several deep breaths that he realizes that Jeff, for the first time in the last five years, had said goodbye without asking him to call his dad.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Okay," Jared says, closing the oven door on the last batch of bread and leaning against the counter. The entire kitchen is a study in controlled chaos. Half a dozen round loaves of bread are cooling on a wooden cutting board. The industrial dishwasher is grinding and shushing through it's third cycle, and the refrigerator and counters are filling up with the products of their labor, fresh salads, a middle-eastern eggplant dip and jewel-like candied carrots, each in their own plastic-wrap covered bowl. "Now, I think we deserve a bit of a treat." And Jensen's mind really shouldn't go immediately to the picture of himself going to his knees and sucking Jared off.</p>
<p>Oblivious to the direction Jensen's thoughts are trending, Jared goes to the microwave that he's been fiddling with for the last half an hour and pulls out a pie dish covered over with plastic wrap. The plastic is covered with beads of condensation, so that Jensen can't see what's inside, until Jared sets it down on one of the few remaining areas of clear counter, and removes the plastic film with a flourish.</p>
<p>They're... thistles. Big ones, bigger than the size of his fist, and steaming hot. But seriously, these are food?</p>
<p>"They're artichokes, Jen. The French serve them with mayonnaise," Jared says noticing his confusion. Jared reaches toward the bottom of one thistle pulls off a leaf "but I'm too lazy to do homemade mayo today and have always loved them just with butter."</p>
<p>"You can make homemade mayonnaise?" Jensen says, a little shocked. "I always thought it was just extruded into those squeeze bottles in some factory."</p>
<p>"Oh, ye of little faith," Jared smiles. "Here." He dips the end of the leaf into melted butter, and holds it out to Jensen. "Try it. You scrape your teeth over the inside of the leaf." Jared demonstrates with his own, slipping the leaf into his mouth, and pulling it over his teeth. It's feral and wild and Jensen kind of really doesn't care that he's never particularly liked the taste of artichokes, because he sure as hell likes the way Jared's mouth gleams with melted butter and the way his tongue is wrapping around the artichoke leaf, and oh... yeah. Hell yeah, does he like the way Jared is licking melted butter off his fingers as he eats.</p>
<p>More than anything, he likes the taste of artichoke on Jared as he steps between his legs and presses their mouths together. The kiss is hot and hungry from the beginning, and the dark and oddly sweet tang of the vegetable mixing with the butter on both of their mouths and the taste of Jared's skin combine to intoxicate him. They can't stop touching, and if they don't he's not entirely sure they're not going to scandalize the kids playing basketball next door in the gym, because in about 2.2 seconds he's going to take Jared to the floor, pull his jeans and boxers off with his teeth and ride that beautiful cock until he screams.</p>
<p>Jared pulls back from the kiss, leaning his head down against Jensen's forehead, their rough breathing intermingling for a long silent moment. "You know..." Jared says, when they speak again, "my momma used to tease me about having a heart like an artichoke, with a leaf for everyone but make a meal for no one. I guess because I've always been able to be friends with anyone, even get fairly serious with a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends in high school. But I couldn't ever really give my heart away."</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Jensen asks breathlessly. "Because you make more than a meal for me," Jensen says, quietly. Because Jared? Jared isn't like that. Sure, he's feckless and rootless and seems to give his heart away to every person that he meets, from the guy tending bar to the kids in the garden. But Jared has more than enough of his heart to go around. And Jensen has spent the last week buried in him, drawn in and orbiting Jared like a satellite, like an acolyte and his heart feels fuller, stronger and better than he can ever remember it being. He doesn't need it all to be happy -- all he needs is Jared. And the only way to communicate that, to come close to telling Jared everything that is in his heart is to close the distance for another of those scorching kisses.</p>
<p>In the end, they don't - so far as they're able to tell afterward - scandalize the kids in the rec room next door. But Jensen isn't sure he'd care if they did. He pushes Jared to the floor, and blocks the door before he peels Jared's clothes off slowly, exposing every inch of his skin to Jensen to taste and touch and suck. Jared is whining deep in his throat before Jensen gets him fully naked, hard and leaking against his belly as he watches Jensen open himself up on his own fingers before he slides down onto Jared's cock. The stretch hurts but it's a good hurt, a hurt that tells him that he's here and this is real and right and happening. A hurt that reminds him that his memories of how he feels with Jared cannot be taken away. Jensen gets lost in the pleasure of having Jared underneath him, looking up at him with hunger and adoration as they move together, as Jensen tilts his head back and moves, rubbing Jared's hard cock over that spot inside him on every thrust.</p>
<p>He can feel the moments in which he can have Jared like this ticking inexorably past and can't help but want to hold on to each and every one. Even though he knows that this time, no matter how much he may want it, his reach exceeds his grasp.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Walking down the steps and into the garden, Jensen is... impressed. Actually, he's almost beyond impressed. The motley crew of gardeners and their helpers has pretty much transformed the back half of the garden into something wild and magical while he and Jared have been occupied in the kitchen. They've cleared out what remained of the plants from the last third of the garden, and laid down straw over most of the bare dirt. There are tables set in a semi- circle, covered with multicolored paper tablecloths and decorated with lanterns and votive candles and the remains of the garden's late-blooming flowers, heaping over their vases on each table. To one side, underneath the apple trees, they've created an impromptu trestle table, which is currently groaning under the combined bounty of Jared's cooking and the potluck dishes that have begun to stream in with the gardeners and their guests.</p>
<p>They'd built a low stage toward the back, and strung Christmas tree lights and paper lanterns this way and that between the posts of the stage, the apple trees and the posts at the edges of everyone's plots, lighting the area up like a festive village square. The stage is cluttered with instruments and their cases, and there's four or five guys about Jensen's age hovering around an extension cord with a few microphones and a tiny pig-nose amp. He smiles a bit, reminded of short summer visits home from boarding school, watching his childhood friends play gigs only slightly more formal than this at Church picnics and rural ice cream socials.</p>
<p>"C'mon..." Jared says, coming up behind him. "Let's eat! You can't possibly refuse to eat food you cooked, right?"</p>
<p>"That's probably the best reason to refuse to eat it," Jensen says under his breath. But he's smiling and so is Jared, who wraps his arm around Jensen's shoulders and presses a kiss into his forehead as they walk down to join the party.</p>
<p>Jared is greeted enthusiastically by almost everyone they encounter as they wind their way through the crowd toward the buffet table. He smiles, trading stories and handshakes and hugs with so many people that Jensen loses track. He'd expected to feel uncomfortable and out of place, his purpose here an open secret and people hostile to him on the eve of the council's vote. But there is no shortage of hands extended to him either, people who he's seen around the garden, who he's helped in the week that he's been here.</p>
<p>They work their way across the party, finally making it to the buffet table only through an act of will and the willingness to be kind of rude. The food stretched out in front of him made Jensen's mouth water. He could see the dishes that he'd helped Jared with today, mixed in with other stuff that he'd never seen before, and some old favorites from his youth in Texas, the obligatory Jello salad and tater-tot casserole.</p>
<p>They pile their plates high with everything they'd cooked today, fresh bread and salad, eggplant dip and zucchini cookies as well as delicacies that Jensen has never seen before -- a spicy red lentil dip that burns his taste buds more than any Mexican food he's ever eaten, little egg rolls that are no bigger than his finger and so delicate that he can still see the fresh carrots inside. Jensen gasps in joy to see a dish full of what could only be chicken mole sitting ignored on a corner, like a long-lost piece of home and he and Jared spoon huge amounts of the chocolatey-rich pepper sauced chicken on to their plates.</p>
<p>There are boxes of homebrew under the table, representing a cornucopia of alcoholic options and he and Jared argue in good-natured beer snobbery before selecting a couple of bottles and heading for a table.</p>
<p>They shoehorn themselves at one of the long tables, finding in between a trio of white-haired old ladies and a bustling multi-generational family that are repeat gardeners and friends of Jared's. Jared laughs, and protests but ends up eating his dinner with a grabby baby seated in his lap. Jensen smiles and steals glances at him as talks about the world-cup with three soccer-mad teenagers, before they get up to kick a ball around the newly cleared fields.</p>
<p>They sit for a while, letting people drift over to talk to Jared, to thank him for all the hard work that he did over the year and share their favorite stories of the garden with a faint but definite air of nostalgia. They are happy to include Jensen, to hear what he thinks about the garden and the festival, but he still feels like an intruder, uncomfortable and somewhat lost. When his phone buzzes in his pocket, he is more than happy to step aside and pick it up.</p>
<p>Jeff's name is on the caller ID, and he answers with trepidation. "This is Jensen."</p>
<p>"It's Jeff," Jeff says, his voice tight.</p>
<p>"What's the good word?" Jensen asks, hoping desperately that it is a good word. He's stepped away from the party now, into the shade of the apple trees. There is a cool wind blowing out here, far from the light and warmth of the party and he wraps his arms around himself for warmth.</p>
<p>"It's not good. I don't know what it is. Look, I've talked to all the voting members of the council, and I've offered 'em everything I can think of as an inducement to go our way. Hell, I've offered them some things that I'm not even sure are possible."</p>
<p>"We'll make them possible," Jensen says, firmly. "Where do we stand?"</p>
<p>"I don't know. There are too many uncommitted votes. I've got about five members who I think are going to go our way in the end. They've got six in their court, which leaves us with two undecideds."</p>
<p>"Okay," Jensen says. Not good, not hopeless.</p>
<p>"It would be. Except the undecideds are Starr and Christiansen."</p>
<p>They're older, and two of the more pro-business, pro-development members of the council. Starr is Kripke's fucking golf buddy and Christiansen won't take Jeff's calls due to some falling out in their past that Jeff has carefully shied away from answering any of Jensen's questions about. "So, the two that you can't really lean on, right? Unless you and Christiansen have somehow magically reached an understanding?"</p>
<p>He can hear Jeff shaking his head. "No, no magic. And I can't really push Starr, since I'm supposed to be working your angle with Kripke," Jeff says. And yeah, it would look more than a little bad if Kripke got word that Jeff was agitating against CW's best interests.</p>
<p>"Look, Jen. Maybe it's for the best. I know, there's something going on between you and this guy. But it's only been a week, and this is your whole career that you're risking. It's a lot to sacrifice for someone."</p>
<p>"I know," Jensen says and his voice comes out sounding raw and wrecked to his own ears. The music is starting back at the festival and he can see Jared dancing in the torchlight with two little girls, making a fool out of himself with an enormous smile on his face. And to Jensen, in that moment, he's worth everything. They're worth everything.</p>
<p>"You gonna be okay?" Jeff asks, his voice soft with concern.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Jensen says, closing his eyes and breathing deep. "I'll be fine."</p>
<p>"You sure? You sure you don't want to come over, have a few drinks with me and Bisou?" Jeff asks.</p>
<p>"No. I'm good here," Jensen says firmly. Knowing now how impermanent all of this is, he doesn't want to miss a thing.</p>
<p>"Take care of yourself, kiddo. Call your dad."</p>
<p>"Thanks, Jeff," he says, before he thumbs the phone off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Returning to the party, Jensen finds himself at loose ends. Jared is in the middle of a cluster of people that he recognizes as most of the community garden's governing board, their conversation obviously animated and intense, with no place in it for him. Jensen grabs another beer from the already depleted stock under the table - this one a hefeweizen, which despite not being at all to his tastes, isn't bad - and wanders through the crowd, returning the waves and smiles of the people he's gotten to know over the past -- has it really been just a week?</p>
<p>Halfway through the beer he finds himself lingering in front of the stage, admiring the Paul Reed Smith custom that the guy currently playing lead guitar is sporting. "Nice guitar!" he says, when the band takes a break between sounds and guy bends down in front of him to take a drink of his own beer.</p>
<p>"She is that," the guitarist smiles. "Do you play?"</p>
<p>"A little. Not as much as I should," Jensen smiles back.</p>
<p>"You any good?" the man asks with a wink.</p>
<p>Jensen smiles. "I can hold my own."</p>
<p>"If that's the case, you should get up here and jam with us." the man says, gesturing Jensen up on the stage.</p>
<p>"Oh man, no. I couldn't. Ya'll are doing great though" Jensen protests weakly, his accent slipping out under the influence of more alcohol than he'd realized he has consumed.</p>
<p>"None of that bullshit; this is a community festival -- we don't allow spectators here. C'mon up and earn your keep!" he says, bending down to give Jensen his arm as he climbs up on the stage. "I'm Phil, and this here is Dave, Jake and AJ." They've got a couple of extra instruments racked toward the back, and Dave gestures to an older spruce six-string. "Be gentle, she's an old friend of mine," he says as he passes the instrument over. Jensen takes the guitar reverently and checks the tuning and the press of the strings on the fret board. He feels the same sense of energy and peace that he'd felt last night in Jared's living room run through him as he starts fingering the opening chords for The Jayhawks "I'm Gonna Make You Love Me."</p>
<p>"Ya'll know this one?" Jensen asks. The band exchanges glances, but Dave smiles and gives him a thumbs up and Phil nods, and Jensen figures that everyone else can pretty much catch up.</p>
<p>He smiles and counts them a beat to start that Dave takes up with the tambourine in his left hand as Jensen turns his attention to the guitar in his hands and joins in with the guitar chords on the off-beats. Phil comes in sweet and perfect with the electric guitar line as Dave starts the words of the first verse. He's counting time so carefully that he fumbles a bit over the intricate finger picking at the end of the verse and has to rush to catch up to the beat, but then everything comes together like some sort of well-oiled machine. He's no longer counting beats and straining his fingers to get where he needs them to go, he's just feeling the song flow out of him without effort or conscious thought, his fingers reaching for the chords before he has to tell them where to go and his body moving with the music. Jensen bends toward the microphone as they hit the segue into the first chorus, harmonizing along with Dave, who gives him a wide smile as their voices rise together.</p>
<p>"I'm gonna make you love me. I'm gonna dry your tears. We're gonna stay together for a million years," they sing.</p>
<p>He steps back when the chorus is over and looks out at the crowd as he plays, just for a moment. He can see Jared, glass in hand, laughing and talking with a couple of the older couples. He lets his eyes linger on him for a moment and watches his fingers start tapping to the beat a moment before he realizes what it is that he's hearing. Jensen watches as Jared turns toward him, with an enormous bright smile, and a thrill runs up his spine as their eyes lock, and he sees the crook of Jared's eyebrow that says that Jensen's choice of lyric isn't entirely lost upon him. And then the band is barreling back toward the chorus.</p>
<p>Again, Jensen bends toward the microphone to weave his voice with Dave's. This time Phil and AJ back them up perfectly, their voices rising in counterpoint and it's so damn good that Jensen's fingers nearly stumble. In unspoken accord, he and Dave stay at the microphone for the second verse, Jensen dialing back his harmony to weave around Dave's lead. When they get to the break for the third verse Dave steps back, and gestures Jensen forward, letting him take the microphone all alone. It's not a verse he would have chosen for the two of them, but his eyes still seek out Jared's tall form in the crowd as he sings. "Yeah, the river it bends/But it flows to the ocean/And baby here I am/I'm your sea of devotion". And then all four of them are singing, vamping it up through the bridge and dragging the last chorus out, trading lines with one another, Dave throwing the tambourine up in the air and catching it again as Jensen and Phil's guitars ring out the last chord.</p>
<p>As the music fades away again into the night Jensen turns his face up to the moon and laughs in pure joy. Jared is standing there, close to the stage and bathed in the warm light of the lamps and candles and as he looks down into his face Jensen realizes that he has never, not once in his entire life, been this completely and utterly happy.</p>
<p>"You didn't tell me you could sing!" Phil says, smiling. Jensen shrugs.</p>
<p>"You want to do another?" Dave asks, grinning wildly at him.</p>
<p>"Hell yeah," Jensen says, smiling back.</p>
<p>"What do you want?"</p>
<p>"Anything," He says, laughing as he bends his fingers around the frets.</p>
<p>They spin through a few more old standards, Van Morrison's "Brown Eyed Girl" and a Tom Petty tune, and then they get into some of Dave's original stuff. Jensen tries to bow out but Phil blocks his way and they keep him up on stage, tossing cues to him like he was one of the band. His cheeks ache from smiling and laughing and his fingers are burning and blistering from playing and he feels like he's flying.</p>
<p>But then Jared is there, standing at the edge of the stage and smiling at him like he just can't bear to look anywhere else. The song is winding down and he can see Jared holding a bottle of mead in his hand and gesturing away, toward the dark space under the threes as the last chord fades. Jensen nods and hurries to pull off the guitar strap.</p>
<p>"I gotta go, guys. I think my date is looking for me." Phil takes the guitar from him at the edge of the stage and he smiles wide, thanking him for the loan of it. He's about to leave when Dave rests his hand on Jensen's shoulder, keeping him from hurrying away.</p>
<p>"Jensen, hey... I just wanted to give you this." Dave holds out a plain, white business card. "Look, I know who you are and what you do. You've got quite the reputation in the development world, and you're a damn good guitarist. Seems like I've got a job for either one or both that is going begging. So, um... if you're ever looking for a career change, or a place in a band, call me up. It'd be nice to have a miracle worker on our side for once." He winks, and Jensen is too shocked to do anything more than thank Dave and throw a wave to the rest of the band before Jared is offering him his hand, pulling him down from the stage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jared settles in against Jensen, slumped against his shoulder as Jensen runs his fingers through his hair. The boughs of the apple tree they're leaning against press in close around them like angel's wings. His cock is throbbing in his jeans from watching Jensen strut around the stage but it's the low hunger of a banked fire. He can wait until they're done here, until he can drag Jensen back to his bed. They sit in companionable silence for a long while, listening to the rest of the party goers make their goodbyes and their manners and watching the clean up crew start to remove the tables and turn off the lights.</p>
<p>"Do you have to go and help?" Jensen asks, against his ear.</p>
<p>"Nah. I did my part this morning. I'm off duty until tomorrow," he says. He doesn't realize until the words are out of his mouth that he's brought up the elephant that has been lurking in the room all afternoon and which both he and Jensen had been working so hard to ignore.</p>
<p>"What are you going to do if you lose the vote?" Jensen asks.</p>
<p>Jared sighs. The wind is cutting and suddenly Jensen is shivering against him. Is it from the wind, or from something else? "You're not the first person to ask me that. I don't know. I suppose I'll do what I always do and take off. It's the start of the tourist season down south, so there's always resort work to do. Or worst-case, there's got to be another city looking for a garden coordinator."</p>
<p>"You're leaving?" Jensen says and his voice is cold.</p>
<p>"Got no reason to stay," Jared says, knowing that it isn't true the moment it comes out of his mouth and not realizing until he spoken how much he's hoping that Jensen will contradict him; that Jensen will come out and ask him to stay -- for him. Or for them.</p>
<p>Jensen is quiet for a long while, before he speaks. The sound of his voice is regretful, like telling secrets that only the dark makes it possible to tell. "If I knew something about how the vote was going to go tomorrow, would you want me to tell you?" Jen says suddenly.</p>
<p>"Something like what?"</p>
<p>"How it's going to go... or at least pretty much how."</p>
<p>Jared sits up, turning to look at him. "How would you know that?" He didn't realize how cold it was until he'd moved away from the warmth of Jensen's body.</p>
<p>Jensen sighs, and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm not really here to listen and report back, Jay. You had to know that."</p>
<p>"What the hell are you here for then? Some sick joke?" He asks, his voice tight and cutting.<br/>Jensen shakes his head. "No. Man, no. Not at all. It's just.... I didn't anticipate this," he reaches out as he says it, lays his hand soft and warm over Jared's where it lays in the grass. There's heat between them, even now, and it calms him against his better sense.</p>
<p>"Yeah. I didn't either," he admits, curling his fingers into Jensen's. "But seriously. What the fuck are you doing here, Jen? You aren't the type to sign on for this kind of thing for shits and giggles. You'd like, send the secretary or something."</p>
<p>"No. I'm not," Jensen says sadly. "Basically, I'm here for political cover. So that when the council votes to use its powers of eminent domain to blow through the whole easement issue and just take the property, they can convincingly say that they really understood and took into consideration the thoughts and feelings of the whole community."</p>
<p>"That's barbaric," Jared says, coldly.</p>
<p>"I know." Jensen looks away for a long moment. "I didn't then, though. They wanted me to do it because I'm close to Jeff Morgan and they needed someone with a high profile in the development firm."</p>
<p>"But they can't just... take our right to use the property away. Can they?"</p>
<p>"Pretty much," Jensen shrugs. "Since the last big Supreme Court case about this stuff, as long as it's better for the tax base and the citizens they can do pretty much whatever they want. They've got to compensate you, I guess. But the value of an easement like the one you've got is hard to figure. I don't know what they'll do. But I'm pretty sure you're not going to win this one, Jay."<br/>And the things is that coming from Jensen, he hears that. For the first time since this nonsense started, he actually hears someone tell him that they're not going to win this. And here in the dark, alone with Jensen he's vulnerable. It gets inside of him and he realizes, in a way that he didn't when he heard the same thing from Ben or from Misha or from any of the other hundred people who have told him over the past few weeks, that sometimes the good guys don't always win. And how tough the odds against them really are.</p>
<p>"Fuck!" Jared says, almost growling it, and pulls away from Jensen's hand, fighting the branches as he steps out into the air. He physically can't stay still now, craves movement and the coldness of the air around him. It hurts. And looking at Jensen, who he is crazy about, suddenly feels cold and heartless and like one more cog in the machine that is slowly destroying everything that Jared cares about.</p>
<p>He can hear Jensen calling his name, asking him if he's okay, demanding that he come back and talk to him, but he tunes that all out. The only thing that is real is a sudden shaking fear in his belly and the feeling that his entire world is falling in around him and he has no idea what to do now.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Sunday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jensen wakes up a few minutes after seven on Sunday morning. By quarter after seven his stomach is anxious and his nerves are fluttering in dread of the city council meeting that is looming at 3:30 that afternoon. He is in the office of CW Development by eight o'clock, letting himself into the silent suite with his own key. Other than the eerie quiet, nothing here looks different than any of the other mornings he's come into the office before the rest of the staff. The light shining through the windows, the noise of the cars outside on the interstate and the smell of wood polish are all just like they have always been, unchanged; as if the past week hadn't happened at all.</p>
<p>Jensen sits down at his desk, taking in the papers strewn willy-nilly across its top, the stacks of mail, the rolls of blue prints, the legal pads and manila folders and binders detailing every step, every phase of design and build. He sits down, turns on the computer and looks at the list of e-mails he needs to read and respond to. Instead, he thinks of Jared; how he must be laying tangled in white sheets under the gable of his roof, of how the sun must be pouring down over him as he sleeps right at this moment, and how Jensen might never see him like that again; beautiful and sun-kissed and lost in dreams.</p>
<p>He realizes, in the same kind of shuddering clarity that he'd felt last night on stage, that there is only one thing for him to do here. He can't let go; doesn't have it in him to just let everything fall back to the way they were before he met Jared and before he knew about the garden. He has to do something, and like Alexander cutting through the Gordian knot, there is only one way out of this problem.</p>
<p>Very carefully, he pushes away all the papers, clearing his desk. He picks up his desk phone and sets it in front of him. He starts making phone calls and he starts pulling strings.</p>
<p>Jensen is well-connected, coming from a political family and having Jeff's - and then Eric's - personal patronage. In those circumstances, it would be hard for him not to know people who know people. He starts off small; a phone call to a friend, a call to an ex-supporter of his father’s to catch up and a quick mention of "by the way, do you happen to know..." It takes less than an hour of combined social chatter and internet research to find what he wants; the name and admissions information of the best cooking and restaurateur school in the city.</p>
<p>After that, things get tough.</p>
<p>He didn’t expect everything to fall together immediately, but is chagrined when the woman he talks to on the phone excoriates him for calling her at home and tells him it is not possible for the admissions committee to even consider admitting a student who has not applied to their school, does not have the pre-requisite experience and isn’t aware that he’s being admitted, and that he should under no circumstances bother her about this again.</p>
<p>After that, Jensen cuts to the chase and calls in the biggest gun he has.</p>
<p>Jeff picks up from the golf course, the chatter from his buddies receding as he walks away to talk privately with Jensen. When he explains his predicament, Jeff’s laugh is rich and dark. "Sorry, sweetheart," Jeff says, wryly. "I have absolutely no pull with those people. I can’t help you there. But I do know someone who can."</p>
<p>"Who? And what are they going to want in exchange?" Jensen asks, warily.</p>
<p>"Oh, Jen…" Jeff says, sadly. "I’m pretty sure all he ever wanted was a phone call."</p>
<p>"You mean…" Oh, shit. "Dad?"</p>
<p>"The head of the admissions committee is married to an old friend of your father’s. Your dad got the guy his job on the hill when he all but got ridden out of France on a rail. His wife runs the admissions committee. To say that she owes your dad a favor would be an understatement."</p>
<p>"Shit," Jensen mumbles into the phone.</p>
<p>Jeff sighs. "Look, just… call him, okay? It’s visiting hours about now, so just pick up the damn phone and do it. He’ll help - he’ll be glad to. And it’ll be good for you, too."</p>
<p>"Yeah, Jeff." His voice is resigned. "Okay."</p>
<p>Jeff reads him the number for the prison, as if Jensen didn’t already have it on a post-it note taped to the back of his dresser drawer. Just, you know, in case.</p>
<p>He hangs up with Jeff and lays his head on his hands. He doesn’t want to do this. He really, really does not want to do this. He thinks about being in high school, about his dad sending him off to boarding school out east at fifteen, telling him "I love you, son. I will always love you. But I can’t have queers in this family. Not if I want to run for Congress. You understand that, don’t you?". He thinks about spending his summers and breaks with Jeff in Seattle, and all-too-brief visits home, trapped quietly in the house or shuttled off to visit friends by a compliant and silent driver, his father taking pains not to be seen with him. He thinks about showing up in statements and press conferences as nothing more than a footnote, as "…and of course, we are proud of our middle son, Jensen, who couldn’t be here with us today." And about how all of it had hurt.</p>
<p>In the end, though, he thinks about Jared; about his laugh and his easy smile and his gentle teasing. He thinks about Jared’s kisses and the way their bodies fit together, so perfect and right. And more than that, how their lives fit together. How good everything had been this last week — working together, laughing over beers, watching Jared cook and talk and play with kids and soaking up the joy that seemed to come just from being around him. He cannot give that up - not without a fight. And for this - for something that might be everything he never knew he always wanted - it’s worth pulling out all the stops and fighting with every weapon he’s got.</p>
<p>His fingers shake as he dials the phone. He has no idea what the protocol is for calling in to the prison but he is put on hold while someone goes to fetch his father. He hasn’t heard that voice over the line in almost ten years, but it sends shivers down his back when he does. "Hello?" his father says into the phone.</p>
<p>"Um… hi, dad," Jensen stutters, his voice going soft and reedy. "It’s Jensen."</p>
<p>"Jensen? It’s really you?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, Dad, It’s me."</p>
<p>"My God, son. It’s so good to hear your voice." His father sounds overwhelmed, almost on the verge of tears for a moment before he pulls it together enough to ask how Jensen has been and what he’s been doing.</p>
<p>And it’s impossible to sum up ten years and the changes between eighteen and twenty-eight in one conversation. "Good. I’ve been real good."</p>
<p>"Yeah?" and he can hear the smile in his father’s voice through the phone, the same smile that he’d seen as a kid when he hit the ball in little league or brought home a good report card from school. "I hear you’re in the building trade now?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," he says quietly. "Commercial development. Big towers, condo projects, that sort of thing." He tells his dad about the uptown build. About how they’d inherited the project from another developer who couldn’t get the job done and had come in and cleaned house — pushed the contractors and the builders and the city until they’d straightened everything out and come in under budget and under deadline. He doesn’t mention Dowling Towers. He can’t think about Jared right now.</p>
<p>They talk about trivialities - about his mother, and his brother and his wife and his sister and her college classes. He can tell that his father wants to ask more, wants to know if there is someone special in his own life without having to ask. They dance around that - along with so many things - for a while before his dad gets right to the point. "Son, I don’t think you called for the first time in ten years just to chat about your mother’s hyacinths. You ready to tell me what’s really going on?"</p>
<p>"I didn’t want the first time I called you to be asking for a favor," he admits.</p>
<p>His dad laughs, low and tired. "Jensen, I love you. And after ten years, I don’t give a good Goddamn why it is that you called me. I just wanted to talk to you, son. That’s enough for me."</p>
<p>So Jensen tells him - all about Jared, and how fantastic he is and how much he wants this. About all his experience and the food he’s eaten over the past week, and the garden and all the people in it. He doesn’t mention Jared’s politics - which would be like Kryptonite to his dad. He doesn’t mention Jared’s laugh or his smile or the fact that he’s rapidly falling in love with him. He’s pretty sure his dad can tell that part.<br/>There’s a long pause and then a smile in his father’s voice when he speaks next. "I expect Jeff already told you that Samantha Ferris’s husband owes me a favor, yeah?"</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>"I’ll sort it out for you, son. You got a fax machine?"</p>
<p>Jensen gives his father his fax number and promises to call again soon, not sure whether it’s a promise he can live up to. He’s pretty sure, as he cradles the receiver, that his father already knows that.</p>
<p>It’s a little over an hour before Jensen hears the fax machine in the next room grind to life. He spends that hour thinking about his dad. He remembers he was young, before his father was Representative Ackles - R, TX-22 and he was just Daddy, and Daddy represented everything that was good and strong and safe in his life. When Jensen had been the apple of his eye and not the family disgrace. His father would come to little league games and cuddle on the couch with him and his brother and sister and watch Saturday morning cartoons, building forts out of the couch-cushions while his mother slept in upstairs. The memories are aching and wistful, but not, he’s surprised to find, painful anymore.</p>
<p>He thinks about his father’s trial and the media circus around it — embezzlement, misuse of influence, bribes from constituents. It was so hard to reconcile those thoughts with the man who had raised him, loved him, and taught him about honor and family and always telling the truth.</p>
<p>Jensen wonders – as he has always wondered – what it was that nudged his father off the straight and narrow that he’d inoculated into Jensen and his brother and into a place where stealing and lying were all morally relative. Jensen wonders – as he has always wondered – if it didn’t all start on that summer day when he was fifteen and his dad caught him in the swimming pool, with his hand down Christian Kane’s swim trunks. Maybe for his father lying about money had started with lying about family; with lying about who Jensen - and by extension, who his father - was.</p>
<p>But ultimately, that just aches now too. He can no longer blame himself for his father’s fall from grace. Nor can he keep himself from recognizing that the man who had tickled him at his little league games was the same man who stole from the people who put him in a position of trust. And the same man that he’d been avoiding for the last ten years. He’d felt homeless for so long – lonely and rootless and bereft, even with Jeff as a father in everything but name – that he doesn’t remember when exactly the sharp pain had faded into the dull ache of a newly healed wound. He’s terribly, terribly afraid that it might have happened when he first looked up to see Jared sitting at a picnic table, the leaves of the broad green tree he’d been sitting under reflecting into his hazel eyes.</p>
<p>His cheeks are wet, and he dashes his hand against his eyes before anyone can see, even though he’s in the office alone, and goes to fetch his fax.</p>
<p>It’s a whole set of documents, all with the school’s logo and letterhead at the top. He lays them out on his desk, one at a time. First, the offer letter offering Jared a spot in the fall class. There are various papers he has to sign and send back - consent forms, a deposit to hold his spot that has been waived, intent to enroll. After that, there’s a letter offering him a full tuition and room and board scholarship so long as he maintains full-time status and a reasonable grade point average.</p>
<p>Jensen very carefully arranges them in a stack, squaring the corners, and paperclips them together before sliding them into a plain brown envelope. He sets it carefully to the side on his desk. His hands shake as he pulls open his bottom desk drawer and grabs a sheet of his personal stationary - a silly indulgence, and a gift from his mother, it’s got his name printed across the top of the thick paper and has matching envelopes. He removes one of those as well, and sets them in the center of his desk.</p>
<p>Opening his pen, he begins to write. It's a short message, just a few words, but it’s hard to get them out through the trembles in his fingers. Due to unexpected personal circumstances, I will be resigning my position with CW Development, effective 12:00 noon today. I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience this may cause the company or my colleagues." He signs and dates it with a flourish and makes one copy. He seals the original in its envelope, and writes Eric's name across the top. He takes the copy, folds it carefully in thirds and seals it in one of the matching envelopes, which he tucks in with the scholarship packet.</p>
<p>It’s done. He feels calmer now as he stands up and walks out of his office. He bends to slip the sealed resignation letter along with his badge, his keys and his company credit card under Eric's door. He doesn't have much that is personal in his office, just a calendar that he has never liked and a couple of framed vacation photos and postcards. A few favorite ink pens, a bottle of maalox and a spare pair of gloves for the winter. They fit easily in a grocery sack. He grabs his leather jacket and hears the clock in the waiting room ring noon as he closes the door behind him.</p>
<p>Sitting in the Land Rover in the parking lot, he fishes around in his jacket pocket for the card Dave had given him yesterday. Printed in raised black ink was "Northeast Community Development Corporation". He was pretty intimately familiar with the work that NCDC did – the same sort of multi-use developments he’d been shepherding here at CW, but they were a non-profit and their focus was smaller, more on affordable housing and engaging the community than on the kind of enormous paychecks that Jensen was used to.<br/>The clock on the dash kicked over to 12:00, making Jensen officially unemployed. And Dave had offered him a job. He might lose Jared – hell, at this point it was probably inevitable – but he’d still have the memories they’d made in their brief time together to live up to. And maybe it really was time to stop using his talent to support the ‘forces of evil’.</p>
<p>He flips the card around in his fingers. Both a work and a cell number were listed. Was it too early to call? No one was going to hire him if he woke them up with a hang-over. He turns the card between his fingers and decides to chance it.</p>
<p>The phone rings and rings again and then he hears Dave’s voice over the line. "Hello?"</p>
<p>"Hey. This is Jensen Ackles. From yesterday?"</p>
<p>"Jensen! Hi. I wasn’t thinking I’d hear from you so soon…" Dave’s voice trailed off.</p>
<p>"Yeah, well… I’ve been doing some thinking about my career direction, as it were. And in the light of day, it seems like the offer you made me was too good to resist." He stops, feeling like a tool.</p>
<p>"Wait… you want to play in my band?"</p>
<p>God, he feels like a tool. "Um. No. I mean, yes. But I was actually talking about the job offer?" He mumbles. "I mean, assuming that the offer is still good. I’m not gonna hold you to something you just said ‘cause you were drunk."</p>
<p>"No, no. God, no. I didn’t bring it up because I was drunk, I’d love to have someone with your skills on our side for once. I was totally serious -- I just didn’t think there was a chance in hell that you’d accept. You’re sure?" Dave asks. "It’s going to be a pretty significant step down in compensation."</p>
<p>“I’m absolutely sure," Jensen assures him.</p>
<p>"Alright," Dave says, and while he still sounds a little shell-shocked, there’s some triumph there too. "Do you need some time? When do you want to start?"</p>
<p>Jensen is a bit at loose ends. "I’m not sure. How about we talk about it tomorrow over lunch? Bring the paperwork, and we’ll get all the details ironed out."</p>
<p>He’s committed to the job, he wouldn’t have called if he wasn’t. But everything is hanging on what happens in this meeting and it’s the only thing, right now, that he can focus on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jensen waits until the meeting is about to start before he sneaks into the back of the auditorium. The whole place still smells of sweat socks and rubber despite the rows of chairs that are set up along the floor. He can see Jared's head peeking up, seated in the front with the rest of the Garden's board and a motley crew of other community members and walks up the center aisle, bending down next to Jared’s chair.</p>
<p>"What are you doing here?" Jared asks, on edge.</p>
<p>"I just… can I talk to you for a moment?"</p>
<p>"Jen, this really isn’t the time."</p>
<p>"Please? I’ll be quick."</p>
<p>"Yeah, alright," Jared says, abstractedly. "Give me a second."</p>
<p>Jared turns to the woman sitting next to him and excuses himself before he gets up and leads Jensen over to stand in corner of the gym where the light is low and shadowed. Jared is looking down at him, waiting for him to speak. "The meeting starts in five minutes, Jen. What is it?"</p>
<p>He takes a deep breath and then another, and finds that he is still calm and sure in his decision.</p>
<p>"Look, I… I just want you to have this." He hands over the scholarship packet, in its plain brown envelope. "Before anything happens in there. I, uh… pulled some strings, but look… please accept it. I know that it’s not my place and it’s none of my business and well. Just please?"</p>
<p>Jared cocks his eyebrow and slides the papers out of their envelope. Jensen can see the different emotions flicker across his face as he reads what is written there. Excitement and disbelief give way to anger and Jared says "You can’t buy me, Jensen."</p>
<p>"I’m not trying to," he says, low. "You deserve it, every bit. I just… made it easier for the admissions committee to see that."</p>
<p>Jared closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he’s just too frustrated to deal with this at all, and turns to head back to his seat.</p>
<p>"That isn’t all," Jensen says awkwardly, his hand on Jared’s arm. "There is also this." And he hands Jared the small, letter-sized envelope with a copy of his resignation letter snug inside. "I wanted you to know, before whatever is going to happen happens, that I don’t have a dog in this fight and that if your goal was to change my heart and mind that you. Well…you succeeded. I’m just… I’m sorry it didn’t change anything with Eric. And I’m sorry that it might not change anything with the council. But Jared…it changed me."</p>
<p>Jared is stony and silent, staring at the small white envelope clutched between two long fingers. Jensen doesn’t know what to do or what to say and feels paralyzed, looking at Jared as his fingers play over the fine paper of the envelope.</p>
<p>"I’ll go now," Jensen says, breaking the silence. His voice is quiet, reluctant, but Jared doesn’t say anything and Jensen turns around and walks slowly to the back of the room. His heart is pounding and he desperately wants to run far away from here, to go home and lick his wounds. But he can’t bear not to know what happens and how this goes down so he takes a seat at the very back of the room, hoping that the shadows will hide him if Jared turns around to look. He’s not sure that he could face him right now.</p>
<p>The head of the Metro Council, an older woman with close-cropped grey hair stands up and introduces herself as Kathleen Powell before banging a gavel on the table to bring the meeting to order. He can feel the tension rise in the room as the cross-talk stops and everyone comes to order. Behind several long tables in the front sit the members of the metropolitan council. He can see Starr and Christiansen, sitting on opposite sides of the main table. They'll be the people to watch when the voting starts.</p>
<p>"Our first issue of business this morning is the proposal to release an easement related to a plot of land currently being used as the Dowling Community Garden and being sold to CW Development for a proposed mixed commercial and residential development."</p>
<p>She pauses for a moment and looks around at the audience as if to assure that they're all in the right place before continuing. "We've had a week to consider the proposals, both to grant the release of the easement and to refuse the request, which would stop the sale and development. We've considered the issue from all sides, and I believe we're prepared to vote?" She turns back to the assembled council members, who nod.<br/>"Okay. Just to be clear, a ‘no’ vote is a vote to release the easement and permit the development to go forward. A ‘yes’ vote is a vote to retain the easement and the existing community garden. We'll just move from left to right across the table, and give each council member a moment to speak, and then to give us their vote. Keep it brief, ladies and gentlemen!" she admonishes before returning to her seat in the center of the table.</p>
<p>And then, the voting begins.</p>
<p>Jensen is more than intimately acquainted with the metropolitan council since he's had more than one opportunity to lobby them for favors since he's worked at CW. This is the first time he's been to a meeting, though and it's also the first time that he's really had no idea how the vote would turn out. He trusts Jeff more than anything. He knows that his godfather has done his absolute best for him and gone to the mat on this. But he still has no idea what the outcome will be.</p>
<p>The first two votes are no shock; Davis, who might as well be a wholly-owned subsidiary of the local Chamber of Commerce votes no, and Delanna Doughtery, a master gardener herself, votes yes after a short speech explaining how learning to some of out own food to connect us to our roots as an agrarian people.</p>
<p>Christiansen is up next and Jensen's fingernails are biting into his hands as the man shuffles to his feet. Jack Christiansen is the oldest member of the council and his almost white hair is a stark contrast to his skin. Once he's standing he takes in the crowd for a moment in almost complete silence before he begins to talk.</p>
<p>"I know that many of you are expecting me to just come out with my vote and sit down. I know you're thinking that this isn't my issue. But when I was growing up my parents were sharecroppers down in the delta in Mississippi. I've come a long way since those days -- I've moved north, built my own business, and gained the trust of you good people, enough that you'd vote for me to represent you on issues like this. In my heart, though, I'm still a little boy who remembers days when the only reason my four sisters and I ate was because of the food my mama grew in a patch of dirt outside our back door. I would never want any one of my constituents to have that kind of worry..." Jensen's heart almost stops for a moment, until he hears the rest of that sentence "... but I also wouldn't vote against them having that kind of security. My vote is yes, Ladies and Gentlemen."</p>
<p>He rubs an uncomfortable wetness from his eyes and looks at the audience. Even from here, Jensen can see Jared's subdued excitement. They got Christiansen, which means they really could win this thing. According to the count he got from Jeff, they're running neck and neck now. It's all going to come down to Starr, who is the last wildcard. If they got Christiansen, there's no reason they couldn't get Starr. Hope starts to bloom, fragile and bright, in Jensen's chest.</p>
<p>The next two votes are also pro-forma no votes. Peterson is Krikpe's golf partner, so there was little question as to how he’d go, and Collingsburg drones on and on about the importance of building a stable tax base as the beginning of a renaissance for the neighborhood. Jensen believes him -- this sort of thing is why he'd gotten into development in the first place -- but he's still bored to tears and when he concludes with a note that his vote is no, he feels more relief than anything else.</p>
<p>Powell is up next and votes an impassioned yes. According to Jeff's notes, she’d been on the fence so her vote feels like a win and his hopes grow a little. Ellison is next and stands up, proclaims his no vote and sits immediately back down with a minimum of fuss. Jones, a young and slightly pudgy-faced environmentalist that Jensen might consider cute under other circumstances, votes yes as he was expected to do.</p>
<p>And now they're down to brass tacks -- they've got Daughtery, Christiansen, Powell and Jones in the yes column, and Davis, Peterson, Collingsburg and Ellison on the no column. It's 4 to 4, and the only committee member remaining to vote is Starr. Starr, who won't take Jeff's phone calls, won't take Kripke's phone calls and is a complete cipher.</p>
<p>He knows it, too, Jensen thinks, watching how slowly he stands up and comes to the microphone and how he waits just a moment too long before he speaks. "I've been thinking about this issue a long while and I wanted to make sure that my decision was my own. So I have deliberately not communicated with any of the people trying to persuade me in one direction or the other, because I do see the validity of both sides of the argument. You both have something worth preserving.</p>
<p>But just like my colleague, Jack Christiansen, I want to tell you about how I came up. I grew up in the kind of apartment buildings you see around here -- battered and run down. There were shootings in our alleyway and cockroaches in our bathroom, but there were also places you could go that were safe, just like I know that this garden is a safe place for this community. I look at the kids here in this room, and I see myself, and my own kids and grandkids. And what I wanted as a child, what I want for your girls and boys, is for them to be safe. As much as I know the value of what you've already got here, the only thing that is going to make this a truly safe neighborhood in which to grow up is the kind improvement that development can bring. And I'd be a fool and a hypocrite if I wanted anything less for you all than I would want for myself or my own kids.</p>
<p>"I vote no."</p>
<p>The room breaks into barely-controlled pandemonium. In a second Kathleen Powell is back at the microphone, calming the masses and proclaiming the final vote total. Jensen feels sick. He pushes past the group of kids gathering in the door and out into the hall, making his nearly blind way through corridors and doors until he feels the cool air on his face. He doesn't know what to do -- doesn't want to be here where he might have to confront Jared, but doesn't want to leave. He feels like he owes these people that, at least. And he feels like he needs to say goodbye.</p>
<p>He finds himself sitting on the retaining wall, feet hanging down over the drop, half-hidden by the thick trunk of the tree. He can hear people starting to stream out of the center doors, can pick up the pitch and roll of their voices, their tears and their disappointment, but he doesn't move. He can't respond to it -- he doesn't know how he would. This aches, deep inside of him. For Jared, for the garden, for everything that he saw and felt and was, this whole alternative world that he's lived in for the last week and now cannot bear to let go. He sits for a long time, until the voices quiet and the ache fades. He closes his eyes for a long moment, and bids a sad farewell to everything that he's loved here. Including Jared. He climbs into the Land Rover and drives home, trying to convince himself that the wetness he's wiping out of his eyes as he drives is not tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>* * *</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Staring out at the garden as the twilight falls, Jared wonders what the hell he's going to do with himself now. He turns possible plans over in his mind as he looks out over his former domain, his idle thoughts like pebbles in a stream. There's that little resort in Costa Rica he could call and see if they're looking for help for the summer season. Or he's probably got enough money to hitchhike down to Oaxaca and spend a month or two on the beach just hanging out. Now that he doesn't have to worry about getting back to the US with no garden waiting for him to organize and plow every March, he could really take off -- hell, why stop in Oaxaca. He's got a copy of "South America on a Shoestring" on his bookshelf that he's always wanted to take out for a spin -- why not take off into the sunset with nothing but his backpack and his boots?</p>
<p>Somehow the idea just isn't as appealing as it should be. The community center is dark and the garden is deserted. Everyone else has left - either heading home to lick their wounds or out to a bar to drown their sorrows - and he's left alone, sitting on the staircase looking out into the tangle to dead plants and wondering what the hell happens now. Staring out into the dead and dark garden, he remembers last summer when he was sitting on a dock on a beautiful Caribbean island, feeling the same sort of ennui and counting the days in his head until it was time to turn north and make his laborious way back to the border, back to the garden, to see everyone and be a part of something again.</p>
<p>This time there won't be a garden to come home to. He’s completely rootless, cast adrift in his own life. He's got ideas, passions, things that he loves. But they aren't enough to tie him down. They're not enough to give him something to hold on to -- something to build on. His eyes light on the white ghosts of the beehives where the bees are tucked warm in their brood boxes, caring for their queen and dreaming of summer flowers. He remembers explaining to Jensen how the bees need the frames they put in the hive to give them something to build on, a framework to order their lives by.</p>
<p>He needs that. And he realizes in a flash of bright insight that he’s never been able to find that framework in an idea. Sure, he loves the garden. But he loves it because of Michael and Alice and Brenda, the people who showed him how good eating food that was grown with your own two hands could be. He loves it because of Dave and Cindy and Sagal and James and Ben and all the people that he's connected with. And he loves it now, more than ever, because it brought him to Jensen.</p>
<p>Jensen who, in all probability, he will never see again. He’d looked for him on his way out of the meeting, turning the paper of his resignation letter over in his fingers as he searched the crowd for that familiar profile. He’s conscious of an ache when he thinks of Jensen, an acute feeling of how empty his life suddenly is, like he’s on the outside, looking in at something. Looking in at what he wants to call home. Home is Jensen, all six feet of him, with his honey colored hair, green eyes and big hands and the way he strums a guitar and bickers about politics and inhales his coffee. Someone who is strong and sure and who challenges him to be a better person, to think and feel and be honest. Who is willing to tear apart so much of what he was in order to let them start building a new life together.</p>
<p>Jared's fingers toy with the edge of the heavy yellow envelope Jensen had handed him. The cooking School logo is a shiny blot of ink under his fingers and the words blur together in the darkness. Cooking school and owning his own restaurant had been a pipe dream, a grand plan that had never seemed anchored in the earth. Now, with Jensen, he can see how the pieces of himself could fit together so that it can be more than that. How it can be the cornerstone of a life worth living, something that he can share with Jensen as a partner. As an equal. For the first time ever, he can see how people do this — long term, serious relationships. He has come to a place where the whole wide world isn't worth as much as this one person. As one set of bright green eyes, or the press of a soft kiss.</p>
<p>Jared sits for a long moment feeling that realization sink into his bones, deep into his very marrow. And then he’s moving without thinking, entirely on autopilot as he stands on the corner and hails a cab.<br/>He’s got a decent idea of where Jensen lives but no firm address so it takes a few wrong turns and a hefty tip to the cabby before they pull up in front of a brick row house. Jensen’s curtains are open, and there is enough light flowing in from the back rooms to illuminate the side of his face through the window. He’s sitting on the couch in the front room, with his telephone to his ear and a glass in his hand as Jared walks up the steps.<br/>He’s nervous and shaking with it, and has no idea how Jensen will react to seeing him again, if this thing between them could possibly mean as much to Jensen as it does to him, or whether there’s a place for him in Jensen’s perfect life. But he’s got to try, because he’ll never forgive himself if he doesn’t.</p>
<p>He knocks, hesitantly at first, and then louder and harder. He hears Jensen stir inside, hears the sound of footsteps and the lock turning and then the door swings open and he’s there. He’s real. And yeah, so Jared had last seen him only hours ago, but he’s smiling because he had really thought that he’d never see him again.</p>
<p>“Jared,” Jensen says, looking shocked.</p>
<p>“Hi?” he says, not really knowing what to say. And in he end, there really is nothing to say, so he pushes Jensen back through the door and against the wall of his entryway and kisses him, his hands in Jensen’s hair. There’s a long moment with Jensen’s body stiff and shocked against his, his mouth closed and his hands fumbling and Jared thinks that maybe he’s been reading everything over the past week wrong, and oh fuck… what does he do now?</p>
<p>But before everything can fall down around him Jensen goes soft and pliant against his body and is kissing him back, his lips opening under Jared’s, tonguing at his bottom lip as he presses a thigh between Jared’s legs.</p>
<p>“Oh god…” Jensen mutters against him. “You’re here…”</p>
<p>“Where else would I be?” Jared asks, moving back so that their foreheads are resting together and he can stare into those deep green eyes.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, out ritually cursing my parentage onto the seventh generation?” Jensen says bitterly.</p>
<p>Jared can’t help but smile down at him. “I believe what you told me, Jensen. You did everything that you could. It was a futile rear-guard action from the beginning and if I hadn’t been so attached, I would have been able to see that.”</p>
<p>“That’s way more credit than I deserve,” Jensen says, pushing up into another scorching hot kiss and Jared hardens with desperation, still not sure after all of this that Jensen will be there in the morning.</p>
<p>“Not even,” Jared says, breaking the kiss to pull Jensen away from the wall and stumble with him toward the couch, pressing Jensen down on it, and bending to suck at his neck, and that soft space behind his ear. Jensen is bucking up against him, seeking more touch as his hands worm their way underneath Jared’s shirt, scraping down his back and over his ass. Their cocks are aligned through their jeans and the friction already has him whining with it, pressing Jensen harder into the couch.</p>
<p>And then the body underneath his goes still, and Jensen pulls away from his kiss. “Wait, Jared. Wait.”</p>
<p>Jared pulls away, his self-control in tatters. “What’s wrong?” he asks, moving back to sit on the couch, to take himself away from all that tempting freckled skin.</p>
<p>“I… are you leaving?” Jensen asks, looking to the side as if he’s scared to meet Jared’s eyes as he answers.</p>
<p>Jared reaches over, brushing his thumb over those perfect lips before he cups his hand around Jensen’s cheek and forces him to turn his head and meet Jared’s eyes. “No,” he says, after a long moment. “I’m not. I’m not going anywhere without you.”</p>
<p>“What?” Jensen’s eyes are doubtful.</p>
<p>“I’m not leaving you, unless you ask me to.”</p>
<p>Jensen’s face changes, looking completely shocked and then overjoyed for a moment before settling in a mask of uncertainty. “Jared… I don’t want you to leave. But you can’t make this decision just for me.”</p>
<p>“I’m not. Or, at least —”</p>
<p>“— Or for the scholarship.” Jensen finishes. He’s blushing and looks away as he says, “I really shouldn’t have done that.”</p>
<p>“I’m not staying for the scholarship either, Jen. Would you just shut up and listen to me?”</p>
<p>Jensen shakes his head but pulls back to put an entire cushion of the couch between them like some sort of demilitarized zone. “Alright, I’m listening.”</p>
<p>And now that he is, Jared’s not sure how to explain it. How to break all his thoughts and the insight he’d gotten into something that he can put into words, into something that will make sense and make Jensen see that this isn’t about him. “Look…” Jared says, tentatively. “The whole cooking school thing is a great opportunity. But it’s not why I’m staying. It’s like I was telling you, what my mama said about artichokes?”</p>
<p>“A leaf for everyone but a meal for no one,” Jensen supplies.</p>
<p>“Exactly. And I’ve always been like that, even as a kid. I’ve never met anyone who makes me want to be something more, to give someone all of me. And I always thought that when I did it would be an enormous challenge, that it would be difficult to do it or to know that it’s right. But it isn’t. I mean, it’s you, Jen. I can’t imagine not being with you. I can’t imagine leaving — I’d go to Costa Rica, or Mexico, and all that time I’d be looking for you around every corner, wanting to talk to you about everything I saw. Where ever I went, I’d still be looking for you.” Jared puts his head in his hands. This is all coming out all wrong. “I guess what I’m trying to say, clumsily, is that I’m falling in love with you. I don’t think I can live without you. If you want me, I’m yours.”</p>
<p>Jensen is still for a long time, just looking at Jared like he’s sacred and that if he moves everything will change and this fragile reality will pop like a soap bubble. “I want you,” he says finally, almost whispering it.</p>
<p>“Then I’m yours,” Jared says, smiling. He crosses the space and Jensen meets him halfway. And then Jensen is yanking him up from the couch, manhandling him through the apartment and stopping to press him against every flat surface in the room in order to kiss him or suck on his neck or palm his cock through his jeans as they stumble, weak-kneed and starving for one another, into the bedroom.</p>
<p>They lay together, afterward, in a tangle of limbs, their lips and hands still brushing over each other’s skin as if they’re not quite ready to be parted into two separate people just yet, when Jared speaks up. “We have a problem, Jen.”</p>
<p>He can feel Jensen’s hands still and his body tense against his before Jensen answers with a murmured<br/>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. I’m sorry, but unless there’s a second kitchen in this place and the one downstairs is just a cruel joke, we’re going to have to find somewhere else to live.”</p>
<p>“We…what? What do you mean?” Jensen asks, sounding more confused than outraged.</p>
<p>“Well, eventually Cindy is going to want her garage back. And either me or my kitchen equipment could fit into that tiny kitchen, but not both at the same time.”</p>
<p>Jensen’s laughter is warm against Jared’s lips as they come together for another kiss.</p>
<p>THE END</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 2012</p>
<p>There is a perfectly prepared, lightly steaming breakfast sandwich staring at Jensen across the breakfast bar, perched insouciantly on their white Ikea china. Jensen glares at it, hoping that by the power of his mind he can somehow transform it into a proper grease-filled fast food guilty pleasure. He pokes at the English muffin — whole wheat, of course — and the unnaturally yellow yolk of the free range and organic egg that Jared has carefully cooked into a round egg patty. They continue to not magically transform into cheap, unnatural goodness. He sighs and wonders if it’s too late to sneak the whole thing into the trash can and tell Jared he’d eaten it. Then he can...</p>
<p>"You were going to stop for an egg McMuffin," Jared says, interrupting his reverie. Jensen turns to see Jared coming out of the shower, a white towel hanging precariously on the jut of his hips. "Don’t even try to front with me, Jensen."</p>
<p>"Okay, okay…" Jensen grumbles. So busted.</p>
<p>"I don’t understand what is wrong with eating what we’ve got here. It’s got the exact same ingredients," Jared says, gesturing at the very healthy, sustainable, local, organic and ethically produced facsimile of an egg McMuffin sitting on a plate on their breakfast bar.</p>
<p>"It’s missing the special delicious McDonald’s grease," Jensen grumbles, picking at the muffin.</p>
<p>"Yeah, it’s also missing the salmonella," Jared tosses back over his shoulder as he heads into the bedroom to change.</p>
<p>Jensen sips his coffee, waiting to make sure that Jared has closed the door and isn’t going to poke his head out of the bedroom again any time soon. Hearing nothing but a particularly off-key hum, Jensen sneaks off of his chair and bends down to rustle through Jared’s school bag, looking for a sheaf of papers bound in heavy black card stock. When his fingers close around it, he surreptitiously pulls it free and lays it on the breakfast bar in front of him, angling his back to provide him some cover if Jared pops out of the bedroom unexpectedly, and cracks the cover open.</p>
<p>Jared is six weeks from graduating from culinary school. As his final project, the school has required all their students to write a comprehensive prospectus and business plan to open their own restaurant - the restaurant Jared has been dreaming of for years. Jared has been obsessive about this project, detailing everything down to the gnat’s eyelash and burning the midnight oil, forgoing even sex in his quest to overachieve.</p>
<p>Still, Jensen is impressed with the final product as he flips through the pages. There are spreadsheets detailing the cost of renting and refurbishing a space, with a couple of examples drawn from the local rental ads, and a list of staff to hire and how Jared plans to compensate them. Jensen spends a long time looking at the four seasonal sample menus that Jared has included and list of signature cocktails to offer at the bar before diving into the pages and pages of spreadsheets detailing ingredient costs and pricing for the entrees. Jared has even included mocked up liquor license application and sample profit and loss statements. There’s a whole thick section of the project that talks about farm-to-table sourcing and how Jared proposes to grow herbs and some produce for the restaurant on-site and team the restaurant with local farms and farmer’s market vendors to buy the rest, and why he considers that so important, as well as how he wants to pull other members of the community in through educational workshops and through his pricing and decor strategy.</p>
<p>Jensen’s hands feel hot. Holding the prospectus in all its printed and bound glory is kind of like holding all of Jared’s dreams in his own two hands, distilled into one neatly bound volume. Jensen flips to the back, and sees that it’s already been turned in and returned by Jared’s professors. There’s a note in scrawled red ink on the back pages praising Jared’s work as uniquely comprehensive and well thought out, and noting that he’d earned an A on the assignment. Jensen’s smile is so wide that it nearly cracks his head in two.</p>
<p>Jared steps back out of the bedroom, his wet hair hanging in his eyes, wearing his school uniform of baggy checked pants and a white chef’s jacket, which is presently unbuttoned over a grey tank top that stretches tight over the width of Jared’s chest. Jensen slyly sneaks the prospectus under the stupid placemats that Jared’s mother had sent them when they moved in, before looking back at Jared. He swallows hard and remembers that Jared actually does need to be on time for his classes, even if Dave couldn’t care less what time Jensen arrives at the office.</p>
<p>Jared walks over, and slings his arm around Jensen, leaning in to lay a kiss on his neck before whispering in his ear. "You’re not nearly as slick as you think you are, Jen," he says, but his tone is light and he’s smiling.</p>
<p>"I don’t know what you mean," Jensen says, sipping his coffee and hoping that the mug hides the worst of his blush.</p>
<p>"Oh, and my prospectus just magically jumped underneath your placement, did it?"</p>
<p>"Maybe," Jensen smiles.</p>
<p>"Whatever. Just promise me that I’m not going to come home and find out that I’ve suddenly picked up an angel investor whose name starts with a ‘J’ and who has a Texas accent?” Jared asks. "I really want to do this on my own, Jen."</p>
<p>"No. I won’t get involved," Jensen says, and resists the urge to cross his fingers behind his back. After all, while Jeff’s name may start with a J, he’s totally Texas-accent free. And Jensen won’t really be involved at all, once he drops a copy of Jared’s prospectus off with Jeff when they meet for lunch this afternoon. He’s really just providing information on a business opportunity that his Godfather might be interested in participating in. What else are Godchildren for?</p>
<p>Jared looks at him skeptically. Jensen stares straight back at him, and eventually Jared gives in. "So," he says, stealing a sip from Jensen’s coffee cup before Jensen reaches out reflexively and slaps his hand, "are you gonna be out with the band tonight?"</p>
<p>"Nope," Jensen says, changing the subject while still looking for ways to subtly slip the prospectus Jared drew up into his work bag so he can abuse his copy code and photocopy it the moment he gets to work. He’s been playing informally with Dave’s band for a couple of years now and they’re bugging him about joining them in the studio for their next album. Jensen loves playing with them; loves the feeling of the band and the crowd and the energy of it. But the record means touring and commitment and he’s not sure he’s up for that. "It’s election day," he points out, dragging his thoughts back to Jared. "We’ll be out doing our civic duties instead of haunting the bars. You gonna go vote?"</p>
<p>"I have to — I have to go counteract your vote, don’t I? I suppose it’ll have to be this evening, though. I’m too far away from my precinct when I’m in class to make it in before I’m through. And I’m in class until 5:30 tonight."</p>
<p>Damn it, Jensen thinks. He has plans for the evening and they don’t involve standing in long post-work polling lines. They do involve the privacy of their bed, half a bottle of ridiculously expensive vodka and making Jared make good on the bragging he’d done yesterday.<br/>They’d had a standing dinner date with Misha, his wife Vicki, and Danneel for the last year or so. For some reason – one that Jensen didn’t want to probe into too deeply, lest he violate his longstanding agreement with Danneel that any time she spent with Misha and Vicki when he or Jared were not actually present was officially not to be spoken of -- the conversation always seemed to take a turn toward the smutty the moment the desert menus came out. Someday, Jensen was going to get the analytics people at work to graph the relationship between chocolate, coffee, and the degeneration of conversation.</p>
<p>At any rate, it’d been Jensen’s fault for ordering pie that came with whipped cream. Inevitably, the discussion between Dani and Vicki turned toward more personal uses for dessert topping. Jared had managed to wait for a natural lull in the conversation before pointing out that actually, whipped cream sucked as a toy during sex, and that the chocolate-hazelnut spread, Nutella, was the way to go. Before he was half way through explaining his reasoning — that Nutella did not drip, was thick enough to require multiple passes to lick off, and because it was chocolate with a touch of hazelnut, tasted fantastic against salty, sweaty aroused skin — Jensen’s cock was rock hard and pressing very uncomfortably against the seam of his pants.</p>
<p>He has every intention of making Jared pay for turning him on like that in public. He’d even scoped out which store on his way home happened to stock Nutella, and he would be damned if he was going to let the political process get in the way of sexual payback.</p>
<p>"You know, you and I are probably going to vote for exact opposite slates of candidates, right?" Jensen points out.</p>
<p>"Of course we will. I don’t know how I ended up married to such a right-wing tool." Jared says it with a smile, as he leans down for a sweet, sweet kiss.</p>
<p>"A right wing tool who works for a community development agency and is married to another man," Jensen points out. "It’s not like you’re hitched to Glenn Beck."</p>
<p>"I know, baby. You’re way sexier than Glenn Beck." Jared bends down to kiss him again.</p>
<p>"Who isn’t?" Jensen says, surrendering himself to the heat of Jared’s lips on his. After a long moment, he pulls away from the kiss. "It’s just… Well, if you don’t vote and I don’t vote, it kind of cancels each other out, right?"</p>
<p>"Jen…"</p>
<p>"Which means that we could stay home and fuck, right? I have this sudden hankering to make you show off your Nutella trick."</p>
<p>"Jen!"</p>
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